


Discovery

by bjjones



Series: Dragons of Interest [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed, Castle, Person of Interest (TV), Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragons, F/M, M/M, Multiple Crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7459923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjjones/pseuds/bjjones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't exactly how he'd wanted to show himself to Harold, but all other options were gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> I actually hadn't written a piece of fanfiction outside the Sylum Universe in over 4 years. POI pulled me back into fandom … ish. Though this is the 2nd story I've posted here.
> 
> For those who do know me, know A) AU/Crossovers are my favorite style of writing B) I can't write just one - so yes this will be a series. Note: Most of this story is centered on POI, the other series/characters will show up towards the end.
> 
> Thank You to my partner for feeding the bunny and always being my Creative Consultant
> 
> Beta: Lynn in some works - I know her as Dr. Janet

[Art by: Taibhrigh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/taibhrigh/pseuds/taibhrigh)  


***

They were backed to a wall.

John looked down at his weapon, took out the clip, and grumbled at the sight of only six bullets left. Then he slammed it back into place, trying not to appear concerned. With a quick glance behind him, he could see Carter's frustration as she too slammed her last clip into her gun. Fusco had already pulled his reserve.

No help was coming,

Between them, Harold stood quietly, eyes wide as he watched John. He had always said they would die doing this job, but neither had wanted to take others with them if it actually happened.

Besides, John Reese refused to let Harold die, especially on his watch.

As far as he could see, there was only one way out of their current nightmare.

One he had not anticipated using.

He sighed.

It wasn't exactly how he'd wanted to show himself to Harold, but all other options were gone.

He looked back out over the battlefield.

The Number they had been trying to help thanks to the Machine, ended up being a bag runner for a drug cartel that was right in the middle of a turf war with Elias.

John had tailed the kid for days, watching his comings and goings. When they discovered he was trying to make money to help his family, Harold had done his best to talk with him, and show him that there were other ways. When that hadn't worked, John tried to scare him straight instead.

In the end they called in Fusco and Carter to arrest the young fool, hoping he would turn against the organization he'd gotten himself caught embroiled with, but just as they went in for the bust, thinking it was a simple drug drop, Harold had shown up to warn them it was a trap. The kid had led them to a heavily armored and very well protected distribution center, and Harold had arrived about five minutes too late.

They were quickly outnumbered.

Their potential getaway cars were filled with bullet holes, and their only road out of the abandoned warehouse district was blocked by at least a dozen or so armed thugs. Their backs were forced against an old, damp brick wall, too tall to scale, way too thick to blow, and barely sufficient to grant much cover.

And they were down to about twenty rounds between them.

"Surrender! And we’ll make it swift," the lead goon called out, his voice condescending and irritating.

John turned back around and gave his companions a bright smile, his eyes focusing solely on the one who mattered most. "You know I would never do anything to hurt you, or put you in harm's way."

"Always, Mr. Reese." Harold gave him a sad nod. "But as much as I value your considerable skills, I don’t think we’re getting out of this."

"I still have one last trick up my sleeve."

"I hope it’s a rocket launcher!" Fusco growled, making sure to keep _Mr. Glasses_ Mr. Tall, Dark and Vicious lived long enough to do anything about it.

"Trust me, Fusco."

"Yeah, like that ever goes well," he muttered, glancing over at Carter, who was eyeing Reese.

"I called for backup." She gave him a pointed look. "I’ve seen your skills, John. They're good, but not _this_ good."

He glanced at the two cops. "Keep _him_ safe." He then handed his gun to Carter and gave Harold a small, apologetic shrug. "Sorry about the suit."

"Mr. Reese? John?" Finch was rightly confused.

The former CIA Operative, turned and let his overcoat and suit jacket fall from his shoulders onto the concrete pavement.

"Well you didn’t have to dump them on the ground!" Harold’s indignant squeak made him smile as he walked toward the large array of waiting goons.

He slipped out of his shoes as he went, and began to unbutton his shirt.

"What is he going to do? Dazzle them with a striptease?!" Fusco rolled his eyes.

"It could work," Finch and Carter both muttered quietly.

The burly detective just stared at the two of them with mild dismay.

"Planning on seducing us? Suck our dicks for their lives?" one goon yelled out, grabbing his cock, and thrusting his crotch lewdly back and forth.

Harold growled, then coughed lightly.

John glanced over his shoulder, and gave him a knowing wink before turning his focus on the enemy.

"Not to sound like a bad cliché here, but I’m giving you one last chance to put your weapons down and leave." His gaze scanned the group of cartel thugs, assessing their strengths and weaknesses.

There were at least dozen men.

Two of them carried heavy artillery.

"What do you plan on doing, huh? Dazzle us with your seduction skills?" one yelled, in mockery of Fusco's own comment.

"I do have a certain skill. One that is not employed unless absolutely necessary." He could see them rolling their eyes. "You have a count of five...

Guns were raised, bolts slid back, ready to fire.

"Four."

Carter and Fusco pushed Harold behind them, shoving him into the darkest corner they were lurking near. They would be his last line of defense.

"Three."

John’s shirt dropped to the ground. Head bowed, his hands flexed at his sides.

Closing his eyes, he pulled himself inward, focusing on his sole intent.

"Two."

Harold held his breath, finding himself staring fixedly at the line between John’s shoulder blades, watching as the muscles flexed and bulged.

"One."

Time slowed down, as in that space between the fleeting moments that make up the fabric of the universe itself…

…John was gone.

And in his place, there stood a huge black and silver Dragon.

It opened its mighty jaw, the roar it made reverberating around the empty warehouses, sending everyone into panicked chaos.

Shots were fired, but nothing could stop the Dragon's tail as it swept around from behind, and slammed into a party of thugs, sending them flying clear across the floor like plastic bags across a supermarket parking lot.

As other Cartel members tried to run, they were stopped by a violent, 30 foot burst of flame. A few of them hit the ground as it moved over them, setting cars and closer buildings on fire.

The goons with the heavy artillery, pulled their weapons and began to fire, only to have the Dragon charge forward, smacking them with his claw, crushing their guns to flattened metal.

The last one man standing once the rest had fled, cowered on his knees as the Dragon lowered his head to stare at him.

"I warned you," Reese hissed, recognizing the sorry individual who had been making the first lewd gestures at him.

But long before there could be any cries for mercy, or pathetic begging not to die, he was grabbed, shaken around, and spat out through the nearest window.

It reminded Harold of watching Bear playing with one of his chew toys.

Still he stared in as much shock as Carter and Fusco.

Yet it was all over as quickly as it had begun.

There were warehouses on fire, while the dead and dying lay scattered around carelessly, but nobody moved.

No one knew quite what to do, or how to even respond. Instead they stared, slack-jawed, as the Dragon slowly turned to face them.

And there it stood, poised ready to fight or flee, but in a moment of decision, it suddenly sat down instead.

And waited.

Harold pushed past his guards and walked across the open area of broken concrete and abandoned decay, until he stood not far from the creature, staring up in awe. He could see John in the Dragon, from the way it held itself, waiting and watching intently. His outer scales were black and sleek, underlined with a second set of silver scales giving him a two-toned color, and he wondered if that was the reason for the salt and pepper in John’s hair.

He sat about twenty feet in height, and up close, Harold could see a massive set of wings folded back against his body.

The tail was curled around his feet, very much like a cat when it perches on a windowsill.

Waiting.

Taking a deep breath, he stretched his arm out, hand upward, palm flat at John.

"Really, Harold?" The Dragon rolled his eyes. "We’re going to do the whole _How to Train Your Dragon routine_?"

But Finch kept his hand out, trembling slightly as Reese settled his snout into his palm and huffed.

Harold relaxed into the touch, then took a step closer, slowly closing his fingers around the warm snout and giving it a scratch much like he would Bear. The Dragon snorted, but pushed into his palm.

"I have to admit, Mr. Reese, I didn't see this coming." He inched nearer, his other hand reaching to run along the Dragon's jawline, marveling at the scales.

"I thought you knew exactly everything about me, Mr. Finch." Reese nuzzled his head into Harold's body, rubbing slightly.

"'Dragon' was not exactly in your dossier." He gave the huge creature a pointed look. "When were you planning on mentioning this?"

"Not in a life or death situation, that's for sure." His head snapped around, lowering and watching intently as the two detectives approached. "Carter, I trust you can deal with this?"

"Deal with _what_ , John?" Her hands flapped at all the violent destruction. "Exactly how am I gonna _explain_ this?"

"I'm sure you can think of something." He stared directly at her. "Though if you state that a Dragon did the damage, you'll be laughed off the Force."

"Straight to Bellevue." She rolled her eyes. "Can you…" She waved her hand up and down in his direction. "...transform back into your annoying self?"

"Not really." He shrugged, as best a Dragon could. "I need time in between transformations. It takes a lot of effort. And even if I could, I would need clothes."

"Explains the striptease." Fusco shook his head as he made his way past the Dragon's bulk, to witness the full extent of the havoc it had wreaked. "I've seen some weird shit in my days, but this…? This takes the prize." He holstered his weapon. "Back up is on its way, so unless you want to explain to SWAT that Toothless here is a figment of their imagination…" He stepped back at the flash of frighteningly sharp teeth from _Mr. Tall, Dark and Scaly_. "Fine. So what is your name?"

"John." The large head tilted, showing the dramatic eyeroll that ensued.

"Not Draco?"

"God, he hates that movie." Reese snorted derisively. "And no, we don't actually eat people. You have no idea how unsanitary that actually is."

Carter bent her head down, trying to hide the chuckle that was desperate to escape. "I'm not having this conversation with you. Not now. Maybe in a few days, after I process this, and over a beer."

"You can't stay here." Harold looked up at John, concern in his eyes.

"Neither can you." Carter glanced from one to the other. "Can you get him out of here, John?"

"Sure." The Dragon hunkered down until he lay flat on the ground. "Climb on, Harold." Finch stared at him for a few seconds, just blinking. "Unless you want me to carry you in my claws, you need to settle at the base of my neck. It's the most secure location."

"Well, it's not the weirdest thing …" Harold muttered, as he took a moment to figure out his best options for actually mounting a Dragon. "Who am I kidding? This is the weirdest thing I've ever done." With help from Carter he got himself seated stiffly at the base of John's long and sinewy neck, where he locked his knees into the scales and promptly yelped as the Dragon stood up again. It forced him to scramble for something to hold onto, wondering if there were reins big enough for such an animal.

Then he realized he was wasn't actually on a horse.

John turned his head, making sure his passenger was as secure as he could get. "Don't think about it too hard, Harold. It's just like flying a plane."

"Yeah, but I'm the one who controls the plane!" he argued, as he felt Reese dip slightly through the partially collapsed ceiling. The truly massive wings unfurled smoothly, and with a rush of air, the Dragon lifted off the ground most elegantly. Before Harold could scream however, they were settled into a fast but steady climb toward the clouds. "How high can you go?"

"High enough," Reese answered, his voice carrying back to his passenger. "Whatever you do, don't look down."

Harold instantly regretted doing just that. It was one thing to fly your own plane, and he wasn't really squeamish about heights, but it was another thing entirely, to be sitting without saddle or harness, on a giant Dragon a few thousand feet in the air.

"Mr. Reese?"

"Yes, Finch."

"How are you not being spotted?" he asked curiously. "Actually, how have you stayed hidden all these years?"

"It's only in this modern era we're more careful with flight," the Dragon answered, dipping to the side then pushing upward into the thicker cloud layer. "My scales are radar reflective. I don't ping airport towers. I stay low enough, to be away from planes on the jet routes, but high enough so people on the ground don't see me. My shape usually gives a shadow like a plane, so most folk write it off if they think they saw me." He gave a rumbling chuckle. "Besides, who will admit they saw a Dragon?"

Harold figured he had a point with that.

After a few moments of lift, they settled into an easy flight pattern, and he was forced to pull his coat closer to him, feeling the chill in the air. They weren't high enough to make it difficult breathing, but if he was going to do this again, he would definitely need a warmer jacket.

Do this again?

It was a thought that stuck in Harold's head.

Would Reese let him ride again?

Would he be able to see _more_ of the Dragon?

"In a few minutes we should be far enough away from the cities, and more into the countryside."

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" he asked, pretty sure that Mr. Reese wasn't following a flight plan.

"Home."

Harold blinked a few times, and stared at the long neck that stretched before him.

John's head turned slightly, watching him sideways. "Hmmm interesting, Finch. I was pretty sure the Machine had told you about the ranch already."

"Ranch?"

"I've been alive a long time, Finch, and need a place to hide when I'm in Dragon form."

Harold clenched at the scales as they began descending back to earth. "Why didn't you go there? I mean after Jessica?"

"I failed in my job as a Protector." His voice filled with regret, and he hated how it made him sound weak. "Let me land, and we can talk."

The landing was smooth, considering he was riding a Dragon, and Harold snorted, still trying to get his brain wrapped around it despite the reality of what was happening.

Dragons were myth.

Legend.

They were wrapped in fairy tales.

Not real, living, breathing creatures.

He felt John lower himself down to the ground so he could slide off. Which was rather easier said than done.

The Dragon then waited patiently as he got his feet under him and was able to steady himself, adjusting his jacket and tie fastidiously once safely on terra firma.

John snorted again when Harold once more lifted his palm and settled it on the mighty snout he was presented with.

"If you're going to give scritches, I prefer them just behind the ears." Wrapping his neck around the smaller man, Reese pulled him in close. "Us Dragons have a few sensitive places we liked to be petted."

"I'm sure you do!" Harold gave him a scandalized look, but continued to scratch where indicated. He then leaned against the surprizingly warm body and let his hand roam along the elegant neck, up over the shoulder blades, before stopping to study the front legs and claws. "You have talons."

"Good for picking up sheep."

"You eat sheep?"

"Along with cattle and a random deer now and then. Or even a moose if I'm really hungry." He stayed still, and let Finch explore, sighing as he uncurled his tail across the grass.

"Is it like a cat?" Harold asked, running his fingers along it as he followed it to the tip.

"It helps me keep my balance and serves as a rudder while flying or swimming." Reese lifted it a litle way, and with a sharp clang of scales, the tip split apart to showcase a very deadly prehensile pincher arrangement. "It's also a weapon."

"I can see that!" Harold backed up a few paces, and then made his way along the Dragon's flank, hands exploring the folded wing on his right. Giving a small cough he looked at it pointedly until John gave in and spread the wing out in the grass more fully.

The squeak of amazement that came from Finch's mouth, had him smiling softly, though he was forced to bite back a few shivers when those inquisitive hands roamed over sensitive areas. "Are you done?" he asked, curling his wing back into his body while staying planted in the grass.

"Yes." Harold stood in front of him. "For now at least."

"What else do you want to know?" he asked, resting the weight of his chest on his folded elbows. "I can smell your curiosity."

"I want to know everything, Mr. Reese." He settled himself on the ground as best he could, and gazed up at the magnificent creature before him. "How old are you? How many Dragons are there? How did you stay hidden all this time? You can smell me?" He chuckled yet paused, casting a long look round to see where they were located. Instinct had him always seeking cameras, phones or computers. And he was always cautious of someone - or something listening in. Instead, they appeared to be in a wide open field, with no technology of any sort anywhere in his line of sight. On the far right was a line of trees that led up to the base of a large mountain. The rest of the clearing was sealed in by a river.

It made their location both secure and isolated.

A perfect hidden spot, well away from all human contact.

"Where _are_ we, Mr. Reese?" Harold asked.

"Upper New York. The border with Canada. Actually we're on the Canadian side." He nodded past Finch, over toward a structure off in the distance. "This land has been in my family for generations. A cousin takes care of it now."

Harold shifted carefully, peering behind where he sat, to spy a large red barn across the river. "How did I not know this?" Turning back to Reese, he frowned in concern. "And how long will you stay this way?"

"I haven't been in my Dragon form for years." He sighed softly. "I miss it, and right now I'm comfortable."

"Is 'John' your real name?"

"Is 'Harold' yours?"

"Yes." He glanced down for a few moments, picking at the grass by his knees, annoyed with himself for being fidgety.

"John is the name I was born with. My father's surname was Reese." He huffed in amusement at the shocked expression on Harold's face. "I laughed when Kara decided to 'name' me. Everyone, even the CIA, assumed Reese was an alias. They never searched under the name any further than that."

"How old are you?"

John stood, stretched his back like a big cat, and began heading for the barn at a leisurely pace. "This is a long story, so we might as well get inside and comfortable. And I'm getting hungry."

"You're not going to eat any sheep, are you?" Harold glared at him as he struggled to stand. He was thankful when the Dragon paused and came back to help steady him, finding that long and flexible neck to be very useful.

"I'm going to get inside, transform, take a hot shower, then fix some steak. I promise to fry it and not eat it whole." He nudged at Harold's arm slightly, pushing him to where a narrow wooden footbridge crossed the river. "You can go that way, unless you want me to carry you."

"I am perfectly capable of walking, Mr. Reese!"

As they approached the barn at last, Harold was startled by its size. It hadn't seemed quite so big from over in the field.

They were, however, greeted by a man whom he could clearly see was related to John, given the same family height, and build. His hair was more salt than pepper though, making him at least ten years John's senior. Or at least so he thought, judging by the age Harold assumed John was portraying for the rest of the world.

Really, there were just too many unanswered questions.

"I see you finally came home, you big lizard." The man glared up at the Dragon without any kind of fear. "Who's the human?"

"This is Harold." John leaned down between the two men and gave what passed for a cheeky smile. "Harold, this is Sam. He's my twenty-second cousin, ten times removed from my father's side of the family. Or something like that."

"I'm Uncle Sam, and don't let the lizard tell you any different. I've hidden that scaly hide of his for decades. Then he upped and joined the Army. _Again_. How did that work out for you?"

"Army was fine," John muttered, as he turned and headed for the barn. "It was the CIA that did the damage."

"Fucking hell!" Sam tore his cowboy hat off and glared at the retreating Dragon. "You're too much like your goddamn grandfather!"

"You never met him!" John yelled back.

"Didn't need to!" The barn doors slammed shut. "Dragons! Bunch of bitchy little girls." He eyed Harold up and down. "He's slightly right though. I'm family on his father's side. His mother's side tends to have more scales. How do you know lizard breath?"

"He works for me."

"I take it you had no idea about his scaly personality?"

"Oh, _that_ I knew." Harold smirked. "The Dragon thing was rather unexpected."

Sam laughed out loud as he wrapped his arm around Harold's shoulders. "I like you, and because of that I won't threaten you if you think about hurting John. He may be annoying but he's family. He's also got a big heart that has been wounded too many times. I've been terrified there will be one break too many."

Harold couldn't help but think back to the homeless man he had recruited two years ago. "It's what makes him special."

"Ay! Come on. Let's get you inside the Dragon cave and get you settled." Sam led him over to the more human sized entryway that gave access to the barn, instantly slowing his own pace to match Harold's limp, and the computer genius wondered if it was a family trait to help others. But as they reached the door so John's uncle stopped, and looked for a moment as though he might be about to spill something he shouldn't. "The fact John brought you out here, says a lot. Don't let the big lizard get away with pussy footing around."

Harold stared at the barn then back at the rancher. "Is that normal? For Dragons to bring people to their hideaway?"

"Dragons are protectors. They'll usually pick a human to protect, and stay with them for that person's lifetime, but will always have a bolt hole to come back to. The only human they will let see the Dragon lair …"

"Sam!" The low growl close behind them, managed to startle them both, but Harold, being more used to John's ability for sneaking just about anywhere, didn't jump nearly as far as his uncle. Instead, he stared at the human form of John Reese, who had at least found a pair of jeans and t-shirt to put on before coming back outside from some other part of the building, and creeping around where they couldn't see him until he wanted them to. Harold however, needed to see the power of the Dragon in his friend, and when John turned to fully look at him, he could recognize it clearly. The raw power in those eyes, that shone with an almost unearthly glow, made him shiver in strangely pleasurable ways. "I think that's enough for today."

Sam huffed, pulling John into his arms. "Good to see you, boy. Finally!"

"Same." He held his uncle very tight for a few moments. "We'll come by in a few days, let Sarah cook us up some grub."

"You do that." Sam stepped back and gave them both a serious stare. "Harold, it was pleasure. Don't let him get away with the silent treatment now, y'hear?"

"I won't." Finch gave him a soft smile, liking the guy despite his tendency to overbearingness.

Standing at John's side, he watched silently as Sam headed for his truck and drove off back down the narrow dirt road. He assumed it would lead to some sort of civilization, but there was no way to tell how far away that civilization might prove to be.

Reese motioned to the barn. "Come on in." And with that, he led Harold through the small door in the left-hand corner of the structure, rather than the over-sized sliding doors in the middle of the wall, that were certainly meant for Dragon rather than human.

Harold continued to follow him down a corridor, until they stepped out into a massive empty space that ran the length and breadth of the entire barn. He leaned back slightly, looking upward, to the thirty-foot ceiling.

Squinting, he was pretty sure the roof was retractable.

John's hand settled onto his lower back, steadying him as he took all of it in. "Welcome to my home, Harold."

"It's huge!" He was pretty sure they could fit a jumbo jet inside the main building.

"It needs to be," Reese chuckled, pushing him gently over to a set of stairs against the wall, halfway down the barn's length. "I'm 36 feet long in Dragon form, and if I stand with my neck stretched up I'm over 20 feet high. The wings unfurl to an 80 foot span. This is big enough for me to sit comfortable, or lay down as a Dragon."

"And in human form?" he asked.

"I'm tall but not that tall." John teased him happily. "In human form, I have a small apartment." He led him up the stairs and opened the door at the top. "Hope you don't mind sharing. I don't usually have visitors."

He stepped into the apartment, which wasn't actually _small_ at all, given its 1200 square foot open concept design.

There was a fireplace, on the outside wall of the barn. In front of it sat a brown leather couch, big enough to fit John's tall frame. Throws and pillows were scattered across its length, each one differing in size, shape and color. The blankets looked to be handmade quilts, and though some were old and tattered, they seemed comfortable and well loved. Matching high-backed reading chairs bracketed a rectangular oak coffee table that was covered with books, and sported at least one gun.

Somehow Harold wasn't surprised.

There was a kitchen area directly to the left of the main door. It wasn't that much smaller than the one John had in his New York loft, and it too shone with stainless steel appliances and marble counter-tops. The island had a sink and a vast amount of space to work with for food prep. Four bar stools ran along the outer edge.

Past the living area was a Cal King sized bed, the frame made of sturdy oak. It too was filled with pillows and blankets to keep its occupants warm in the cold winter months.

He could also see at least one door along the furthest wall, and assumed it led to a bathroom.

What fully caught Harold's attention however, was the desk that sat against the right hand wall. It looked newer than the rest of the furniture, but what truly intrigued him was the computer equipment laying both on and around it. With pursed lips and a frown of concentration, he limped over to what he could clearly see as a pretty decent workstation, eyeing the machines critically. They were all good quality and similar to those he had adapted for use in the library.

None of them were networked. Actually they weren't even plugged in. And several pieces were still boxed.

He glanced over at John, who was watching him intently.

Reese sighed and moved into the kitchen with a knowing smile. "Would you like some tea?"

"You have Sencha Green?" He huffed before taking off his jacket, and tossing it over the back of the office chair.

"Yes," Reese answered easily, busying himself in fixing drinks. "I knew one day I would bring you here."

"Hence the computers? These are excellent quality."

"I know." John leant against the island as there was nothing to do until the water boiled. "I wrote down the model numbers and systems types you use, then called a few contacts who owe me some favors. I had them buy only the best and got it all delivered here. You can do whatever you need to with it. Sam brought the stuff in, but didn't hook anything up. He's a bit of a tech idiot. Sarah just got him using a smartphone and he leaves it on the kitchen counter most mornings."

"That explains why the Machine doesn't know about this place." Harold limped over to the kitchen area and settled onto one of the barstools.

John shook his head. "I was last here just before recruitment into the CIA."

The kettle began screaming, and John fixed tea for Harold, before brewing his coffee. Then he moved them to the living area, shuffling a few pillows around before settling onto the couch. When Harold took the seat next to him, he found it slightly startling.

"Talk to me, Mr. Reese."

"I wanted to tell you. Just didn't know how." John curled into the corner of the couch, pulling down one of the quilts. His hand moved over the faded blue fabric softly. It was one of the last ones his mom had made for him. He had always preferred to tighten himself into a ball, whether in Dragon or human form, and as a kid he was usually found under one of her painstakingly stitched quilts. He felt safer that way. "It wasn't like I could just walk into the library and say, _'By the way Mr. Finch, when you said you knew exactly everything about me, did that include the Dragon part?' _"__

Harold snorted into his tea. "It would've been a start."

"I almost told you when we got Bear." He sipped his coffee then set it down on the table. "He sensed something was up. Kept whining at me. In the end he knew I was something more than human, acknowledged me as Alpha, and let it drop."

"You can talk to Bear?" Finch stared at him in stunned amusement.

"No." John smirked, but rather liked the idea. "He could smell the Dragon, and sense its strength. And I did hint at it."

"You did not!" Harold set his tea down. "I would _remember_ that."

"I did tell you Bear's favorite movie was _How To Train Your Dragon_." He chuckled even as Harold glared at him indignantly. "Too subtle?" Picking up his coffee again, he took a few sips and waved his hand expansively. "Ask your questions."

"Let's start with the easy ones." Harold grabbed a few of the pillows, positioning them to give his hip and back more support as he got comfortable. "Your Uncle Sam said your mother was a Dragon. Well, he said her family was the more scaly side."

John snorted. "She _was_ a dragon. My father was human."

"How does _that_ work?"

"And we're straight to the hard question." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to formulate his thoughts on how best to explain the varied role of Dragons and their sometimes complicated relationships. It wasn't something he'd explained a lot over the course of his life, having had only a few Protectees. And he rarely told anyone outside the family about much of anything where his personal life was concerned. "Dragons are Protectors by nature. We always have been. Despite the legends stating that we were the destroyers of villages and kidnappers of virgin princesses, we actually protected villages, princesses, and in some incidents even kings." He closed his eyes for a moment, a fond smile on his face. "My grandfather was well known for protecting Cornwall in England. Rumor had it, he protected Arthur himself."

"As in _King Arthur_?" Harold stared at him with wide eyes.

"He never confirmed or denied." John shrugged. "He was lost in World War II. He, and other Dragons who still lived in England, tried desperately to protect as many people as they could during the bombings. But bombs don't discriminate between man, woman, child or Dragon."

"I'm sorry." Harold scooted closer to him. "Is he the one your uncle said you were like?"

"Even mom accused me of being like him. When he wasn't in Dragon form, he was always a soldier, bodyguard, police officer. Always protecting. My grandmother was just as loyal and protective."

"Did she survive the war?"

John took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. "She died with him. How do I explain this?"

"John, there's nothing you can say that will scare me off." Harold reached over and took his hand, giving it a squeeze.

"They were Mates." His hand took Harold's and held it firmly.

"Was Jessica yours?"

He shook his head abruptly. "We live a long life. Not all of us find our Mate quickly. Some haven't found them at all yet. We have a tendency to become Protector to one individual for the duration of their lifetime. Jessica came into my life after I lost my parents. She was everything. She learned about me being a Dragon, and I swore to protect her always. I was about to leave the Army for her, and settle wherever she wanted us to go, when I got called back to duty after 9/11. I knew the war wasn't going to end, so I released her. She didn't like it, and we argued. She would've waited for me. She didn't care about having a family. She wanted to be with me. But I left her. I failed at the one thing we Dragons are forever meant to do."

Harold moved closer, his hand wiping away the tear that slid down John's right cheek. "She forgave you."

"She had a good heart." John shifted slightly rubbing into Harold's touch, much as he did as a Dragon.

"You like to do that." Finch slid his hand back slightly, scratching behind Reese's ear, watching in amazement at the reaction it produced.

"Tactile creatures," John muttered, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Why did you join the CIA?" Harold pulled his hand back, albeit reluctantly.

"There was a Dragon working for the terrorists." John sighed, missing the contact between them instantly. "I could smell him as a soldier, but never saw him. I got myself recruited, but ended up with Kara and Mark. It didn't take me long to realize they had their own agenda."

"Did you ever find him?"

"No." He snarled slightly. "But there was another Dragon searching for him. He's an old one who settled in Syria centuries ago. I sent him the Intel. Last I talked to him, he was still hunting."

"How many Dragons are there?"

"Worldwide? About a thousand, give or take a hundred. We've learned to blend into normal society." He rested his head against his hand on the back of the couch. "The oldest of us is a little over two thousand years. The youngest is around thirty."

"And you?"

"I was born April 23rd, 1803." John smirked at Harold's gasp. "I'm still young compared to most Dragons."

"How do baby Dragons come to be?"

One eyebrow went up, a wicked smirk graced John's face. "Well Harold, when a mommy Dragon and a…"

"Mr. Reese!"

"If a Dragon's Mate is human, after they Mate and Bond, at least one of their offspring will be a Dragon too. If two Dragons Mate, they will have a clutch of Dragons."

"Your father was human." Harold remembered at least that part of the story.

"He was in the Colonial Army." John smiled. "She found him hiding in her barn, recovering from a wound he'd received courtesy of some Redcoat."

"Your father fought in the Revolutionary War?" He was having a hard time wrapping his brain around that particular piece of information.

"I fought in the Civil War." He shrugged. "Alongside my brother."

"You have a brother?"

"Had. _I_ was born a Dragon, he wasn't." John stood up suddenly, and went over to one of the bookcases that were placed on either side of the fireplace. He grabbed a photograph in a heavy silver frame, from the middle shelf on the left, and brought it back to the sofa, handing it to Harold. "I worked as a spy for most of the war. He fought under General Sherman."

Harold could see the resemblance between the two men. "You said you were born 1803. You would be sixty in this photo. How old was your brother?"

"Thirty. Mom almost didn't survive the birth, so after him they never had any more kids." John took the photo back and set it down on the coffee table, staring at it for a while.

"Wait." Harold looked up, a curious expression on his face. "How did your father live that long?"

"That's the advantage of being Mated to a Dragon. As long as the Dragon lives, so too does the human Mate." He settled back on the couch and curled up again. "Mom was killed in a car accident, while human. Dad died less than a week later. Dragons are very durable in their natural form. Even has humans we can heal faster, move faster, but there _is_ a limit."

"It's why you take more chances."

"I can, to an extent. You shoot me in the head, I'm done, Dragon or not."

"What happened to your brother?" Harold asked.

"He married a freed slave woman." John smiled, remembering when he'd been first introduced to his sister-in-law. She was beautiful and strong, having endured extreme hardships only to come out of it all the leaner and more agile of mind and body. She and his brother had fitted perfectly for each other. She had been amazed at how the Reese family accepted her so easily. His dad had only snorted at it all, and stated they had weirder relatives. Family relationships got rather strained after the kids were born, and it was requested that no one mention the Dragon side of things. After that, John hadn't seen much of the youngsters, and they eventually lost track. "They moved west after the war, to get away from the pressures and the bullies of society."

"What happened to them?"

"His kids moved further west, and then dropped off the grid." John chuckled softly. "It was pure coincidence when I found the line again. I hadn't realized it at first. It was after you got me off the street, and her Number came up, that I realized she was a spitting image of her great-great-great-grandmother." Harold stared at him waiting for him to continue after the dramatic pause. "It's Carter. She has my brother's eyes. She probably doesn't even realize where her family came from."

"I really want to be there when you inform her that you are in fact, her great-great-great-uncle!" Harold grinned, smirking wickedly.

John got up from the couch, grabbing their cups and heading back into the kitchen to refill them. They had been talking for some time, and both drinks had gotten cold. While the water boiled, he dug around the freezer to find the casserole dish he knew Sarah would have left in case he showed up unexpectedly one night. Sam had always kept the pantry lightly stocked, with tea, coffee, and the bare essentials. The fridge was about empty, though if he'd contacted them _before_ he'd shown up, it would've been stocked with everything known to man.

There was a note on the casserole stating correct oven temperature and how long to cook it for.

He heard Harold moving around in the living room while he prepped, grabbed placemats, dishes, silverware and set them on the counter.

Putting the dish into the oven, he fixed more tea and coffee and sat back on the couch. He had tried many times, to imagine what it would be like having Harold in his home, and he was finding the reality more pleasant that anything he might daydream.

"Why did you bring me here?" Finch asked, as he explored the bookcases, finding photos, journals and old mementos that meant something to John from some point in his exceptionally long life. He knew he had been learning more about him in those last few hours than he had in the entirety of the past two years. And it was fascinating.

Oh, he knew all about the man's military career, his CIA Missions, the people he'd killed, but then suddenly there was the real man.

The _real_ John Reese.

"It's safe."

Harold turned stiffly and stared at him, before sighing and taking his seat on the couch once more. "John?"

"I stepped out of that limo, tired, hungry, filthy, pissed at the world, at myself. I wanted to die, yet wanted to destroy things. I lost Jessica. I failed at my duty, human _and_ Dragon. I was pretty much at the lowest point of my entire life." He scooted closer to Harold, reaching out with a hand, to cup his cheek. "And I stepped out of that limo, and there you were, standing so confident, as if you knew everything about me. And for a moment I thought you knew I was a Dragon. There are humans who do, who aren't family or protected. And as I listened to your spiel, all I kept thinking was _now_? At _this_ moment in time, now is when fate decides to show me my Mate? This arrogant asshole who thinks he's God and can control people's lives!"

Harold closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of John's touch, trying not to cringe and smirk in equal proportions.

"Irony is, you created a machine that _can_ control lives, yet you don't abuse it, so I'm still not sure if that makes you a God yet or not." John ran a thumb over his Mate's cheek, before pulling him closer. "For two years I stood by you, terrified I would lose you before I had chance to tell you everything. After Root, I almost told you, but …"

"I wasn't ready." Harold opened his eyes, and looked directly at him. "I am now, John."

There was no hesitation as Reese leaned forward and kissed him, and though it was stiff at first, neither man quite sure what to do next, when Harold relaxed and welcomed the tenderness of it, their need for each other grew stronger. John slid his tongue over the slightly chapped lips beneath his own, seeking permission, and with a moan Harold opened to him, pulling him closer, wanting urgently to taste what was now his.

With gentle concern, John maneuvered the two of them until Harold was laid out more comfortably under him, all the while kiss along his jaw, down his neck, sucking on the junction of his shoulder.

Hands roamed in mutual consent over shirts and clothes, seeking a way through them to the promise of hot skin, and fresh exploration.

The oven buzzer was loud and obnoxious.

Harold's stomach made its presence known, and John's own grumbled too, echoing the sentiment.

"Dinner _then_ dessert," he promised, kissing him quickly on the nose as he stood, pulling his Mate carefully off the couch and getting him steady on his feet again before they went to eat.

It didn't take long to serve up the food, and they sat at the counter, quietly devouring the simple fare, each of them lost in their own thoughts and sneaking glances at each other now and then, searching for signs that they would be okay together.

"I'm good at hiding." John set his fork down at last. "We have to be. You didn't miss anything in me. I simply chose not to show you."

"Are the myths about Dragon Hunters true?" Harold asked, taking one last bite and swallowing down the rest of his tea.

"Yes." John stood and grabbed the empty plates. "Like any society, you always have assholes who think they can break the law. They were the ones who destroyed villages and kidnapped virgin princesses." He set everything into the sink before turning around and leaning against the counter. "I remember grandpa telling us that it was his great-great-uncle or something, who was famous for being the Dragon that St. George slew. Of course grandma pointed out, that wasn't really something to brag about."

Harold chuckled. "Your grandparents sound pretty awesome."

"They were." Reese felt his smile fade just slightly. "At this point, the only family I really have left is Sam."

"You have Carter," Harold interjected. "And Bear…" Shifting off the stool, he made his way around the island. "And you have me." Reaching up, he cupped John's left cheek, his fingers rubbing softly behind his ear and along the hairline.

It caused a shiver of pleasure that seemed vibrate through them both.

"If you don't want this…" John reached for him, holding him tighter. "...tell me now."

"I want this." Harold's fingers slid into the salt and pepper hair, gripping it firmly, pulling him down into a heated kiss, moaning as John opened up to him in response.

He didn't fight it as he was pushed backward against the counter, and then lifted with ease until he was level with John's own height. But such a gesture took some of the strain from his neck, and he wrapped his good leg around the strong waist that was supporting him, marveling at the strength John was showcasing.

They stayed that way for a while, getting lost in each other, until Harold's injuries had him pulling back with a wince. "Can we take this somewhere more amenable?"

John slowly put him down, before taking a deep breath to try and get himself back under control. Then taking his Mate's hand, he led him to the bed.

Harold sat on the edge, watching intently as Reese stripped off his shirt. He had seen the former spy in various stages of undress over the past two years, though many of those times had been in dealing with wounds he'd received helping people whose lives they influenced at the bidding of the Machine. Yet one scar seemed somehow more significant all the others, and he reached out to touch that small remaining sign of how the CIA had ultimately betrayed everything John once had been.

"I'm fine." Reese took the fingers that brushed over his skin, and kissed them gladly. "You saved me. You were there when I needed you."

"Would you otherwise have survived? Because of the Dragon?"

"It would've been touch and go without some medical help. I was bleeding out fast, and gut wounds never heal easily." He kissed Harold's palm, then the inner side of his wrist before unhooking the cufflink that glittered in the light. He then took his Mate's other hand and repeated the process, setting the silver Finch engraved jewelry on the nightstand, and turning to unbutton the vest and shirt that Harold wore with such handsome grace. He slid them from his Mate's slim shoulders, folding them neatly and laying them on the trunk at the foot of the bed.

Harold sat there, frozen, looking down at his hands, self-conscious of his own ugly scars.

John was a perfect specimen of human...

... _Dragon_ physique.

What ever would he want with a myopic, middle-aged cripple…?

John tipped him under the chin carefully, tilting his head back, making sure not to strain his neck but needing him to look up so they were eye to eye. "You're beautiful, Harold."

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "I wasn't exactly prime before I was way past my prime. I'm just a computer nerd...."

"But you're _my_ computer nerd, Mr. Finch," John teased tenderly, stooping to kiss him, slow and easy. "And you _are_ beautiful."

"Then it really is in the eye of the beholder," Harold muttered anxiously.

"Trust me. I've got great eyesight." John pulled him up off the bed, quickly unbuckling the belt and unhooking the pants that were between him and his prize. He then knelt on the bedside rug to help Harold out of his shoes and socks before sliding his pants off. Leaning back, hands resting on his own thighs, John smiled up at him warmly. "The silk boxers are a kink for sure, but they have to go..."

Harold huffed, but placed his hands on the strong shoulders that were conveniently at his disposal, allowing for his very expensive underwear to be removed. And just as with the rest of his clothes, John folded them fastidiously, and set them where they could be found later.

His grin turned more wolfish as he ran his hands up the bare legs and thighs before him, his thumb running over the scars that marred Harold's left hip. He knew shrapnel wounds when he felt them, and with the fractional Intel he had gleaned about Nathan Ingram, IFT, and Mr. Harold Wren, he knew full well that his Mate had been at the Ferry bombing.

The strength he had to have had in walking away that day, made John admire and love him all the more.

"They aren't pretty." It was a blunt acceptance of truth, with nothing left to hide.

"They're testimony to how stubborn you are." He looked up into Harold's face. "These are signs that you survived. For good or bad, you survived and continued on. It's the same as these." He pulled himself to his feet, and laid Harold's hands over a round, puckered scar on his upper chest. "Sniper. Second World War. Took me down fast and efficient. The rest of my unit was destroyed. There was nothing I could do to save them."

"You save people, Mr. Reese. It's what you've always done. I, on the other hand…"

"Sacrificed everything to help those considered irrelevant." He kissed the top of Harold's head. "Despite the ways we are wounded, such scars are from battle."

Reaching up, Finch pulled him down into a heated kiss, devouring him in passion, trying to convey everything he was feeling. How much John made him come alive again. Let him love someone again. His hands traveled over the strong back and stomach, mapping muscle and sinew, stopping at the button on his jeans. His fingers slid under the waistband, teasing. The low rumble from John's chest, made him smile into the kiss, permitting him to go further, and once that heavy denim was safely puddled on the floor, so he paused to look at the nakedness he had exposed, smirking wickedly at John's lack of underwear.

Reese was everything he had imagined.

Sitting on the bed once more, allowed Harold perfect access to the thick, hardening cock that strained for his attention, and he ran his hand along its length, rubbing a thumb over the head, sliding under the foreskin. He took his time, caressing, stroking. And his explorations drew a groan from John's throat was pure pleasure. Licking his lips, he enjoyed the shiver that ran down his lover's spine, and marveled at the glow in John's eyes as the Dragon began showing through. It was glorious, and he gave a mischievous little wink, before leaning forward and taking the slick, swollen head of John's cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the hot, throbbing smoothness, before taking him in deeper. Gripping the slightly quaking thighs that shook just slightly with his ministrations, he sucked and licked the hard shaft, working it to its fullest, sensing John's hand slide into his hair, then onto his neck - steadying but not holding him, or forcing anything to happen.

"Harold…!" Reese heard his own voice crack, as delight coursed through his body. It had been a long time since last he'd lain with anyone, let alone the pleasure of accepting that this was indeed his Mate, and Harold's mouth really there on his dick. "I'm not going to last…" He gasped, glancing down to see himself swallowed all the way.

And with a sharp cry he climaxed, spilling everything.

Harold drank it all, willingly, greedily, then sat back and wiped his lips in satisfaction, only to groan when John swooped down and took his mouth into a possessive kiss, sucking at his tongue, tasting his own essence.

With some pushing and pulling, they lay out fully on the bed, pillows in all the right places supporting Harold's hip and neck.

John managed to shuck off his jeans from around his ankles, and straddled Harold's thighs, making sure to keep too much weight from pressing on his bad hip. Then grabbing lube from the drawer, he slicked up his fingers, and with a very wicked smirk, leaned back and began preparing himself.

It forced Harold to grip quickly at his own erect cock, just to keep himself from coming at the sight of John's beautifully stretching body, that so amply demonstrated those strong muscles and sleek lines.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long before John positioned himself over Harold's hardness. And with his Mate's hands tight in his, he slowly lowered himself until he was fully seated. His eyes closed as a cry of satisfaction caught in his throat. It was everything he ever wanted. All that he needed. Right there. Filling him. Needing him. Wanting him. Lifting slightly on his knees, then sliding back down, he worked slowly at first until he found the perfect angle that sent sharp spikes of pleasure up his spine.

"Fuck," he gasped, struggling to breathe. "Oh, it..."

But he had no words.

None were required.

Harold's hands were there to brace him as he moved with steady ease.

"Oh, God!" Harold pushed up into the tight heat that engulfed him, moaning at the glorious friction. He wasn't going to last much longer. "John! John, I'm…"

"I got you." Reese let go of his hands, and pushed down at a lower angle. "Touch me. Harold, please!"

And he obeyed, taking that wonderful hard cock into his hands, stroking it tightly with each thrust.

The sensations were too much.

John faltered on the rhythm, desperate to feel Harold come inside him.

He leaned forward, hands on either side of his Mate's head near the pillows, and thrust his hips up and down with faster urgency, sliding over the perfect spot again and again. His head bowed slightly, he took Harold's mouth in a gasping kiss, swallowing the sudden yell of completion that his Mate gave with a shuddering spasm.

Only a few more strokes, and he was coming too, all over their stomachs.

It took a while before either of them could move, yet finally they had to, and John pull himself reluctantly from Harold's cock, lying down next to him, trying to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. He turned his head and smiled at his Mate. He knew it was a dopey, happy, silly smile, but when Harold returned the very same, he felt tears burn at the edges of his eyes.

It was everything.

His Mate.

With some struggling effort, he sat up and moved off the bed, trotting over to the door in the back wall, which was indeed the bathroom as Harold had first thought.

Flicking on the light, John grabbed a clean washcloth, and after ensuring the water was warm, he dampened it, and returned back to bed. Washing Harold softly and gently, felt like a privilege.

When he was done, he swiped the cloth over himself too before tossing it in the laundry basket just inside the bathroom doorway.

After that, he got Harold under the covers, fluffed up his pillows, and settled next to him, pulling the smaller body against his own to allow those weaker hips a comfortable ease against his stronger ones.

They were both asleep in a matter of moments.

***

Harold woke surrounded by pillows and blankets as though somewhere along the way he'd made himself a nest.

He was warm and aching in all the right places.

The only problem being that John wasn't with him.

For a moment he panicked, thinking Reese had regretted their intimacy and left. Only to remember that he was actually John's hideaway, not some hotel room in New York City. No human, other than John's immediate family, had ever been in his home, and Harold was dearly honored to be lying comfortably in his bed.

He shifted slightly, grabbing his glasses, wondering when exactly he had taken them off, only to have a flash of memory that John had removed them for him as he fell asleep.

He sat up to see the fireplace roaring cheerfully.

But there was no sign of John.

Harold glanced over to the bathroom, but the door was open and the lights were off.

With a grumble he pulled back the nice warm covers, grabbed the top comforter, wrapped it around himself and headed for the front door.

The moment he opened it, his heart melted at the sight of the black and silver Dragon curled up tightly, snoring softly. John had said he hadn't been in Dragon form for a few years, and missed it, but not wanting to go back to the big empty bed by himself, Harold made his way down the stairs and cautiously snuck a path around the Dragon until he found where the nose was tucked into its body.

He took the few moments to study him.

John was truly huge, but curled around himself like a cat on a cushion, he looked small and carefree.

And Harold liked that, very much.

The black and silver scales shimmered in a passing light, and he looked up to see a narrow crack in the roof, confirming that it was indeed retractable. The sight was beautiful - velvet night, filled with stars.

It was something he didn't get to see in the city.

Tired, and wanting to lie next to his lover, he reached out from under the comforter and scratched behind the Dragon's left ear, hoping John didn't wake in a daze and eat him by mistake or something.

"Harold? What are you doing down here? It's freezing!" The great beast raised its head slightly as its eyes flickered open.

"You were gone."

John sighed and uncurled, letting Harold lay against his chest. The comforter was large enough to burrow into, as he settled against the warm body with a sense of contentment that he was starting to seriously enjoy. His hip and back were bracketed by one of the Dragon's front legs, securing his aching bones quite nicely. He took off his glasses, clutching them in his hand as he lay his head against the broad expanse of scaly chest, listening to the reassuring heartbeat from within.

John sighed softly, and then wrapped his head back around, embracing Harold gently. "Goodnight, Mr. Finch."

"Shhh, Mr. Reese. I'm sleeping."

John chuckled, the low rumble rippling through his body, for which he received a slightly haughty glare before sleep finally claimed Harold one more time.

The Dragon shifted slightly to get comfortable again, and soon fell back to sleep too, knowing his Mate was secure in his presence.

**~ Next Morning ~**

Harold had a weird sense of déjà vu when he woke up surrounded by pillows and blankets, lying in John's warm bed.

He sat back up, scrambling for his glasses, only to find John was in the kitchen cooking breakfast.

"How did I get back here?" he asked curiously, blinking sleepily at his surroundings.

"I carried you," John smirked. "Go take a shower. There's clothes waiting for you. Breakfast will be ready in about half an hour."

Harold sat on the edge of the bed, and with a deliberate ease stood up, dropping the comforter before walking naked to the bathroom. He blushed, knowing full well that John was watching him. It made his limp a touch more awkward than usual.

Flicking the bathroom light on, he stepped in to close the door and got a glimpse of his lover's lust filled gaze.

With a small, shy smile, he figured he might have some company in the shower if he was lucky.

Standing in the bathroom, the door behind him being shut but not locked, Harold took in what was quite obviously a renovated shower cubicle. There was a small, nicely tiled bench situated in the back of the unit, along with a set of new looking handrails strategically placed to make it easier for someone with his kinds of injuries to be safe where there was steam and water.

John had thought of everything it seemed.

He swallowed back the emotion that struck him upon realizing that, and after a quick wash, shave and scrounging for a toothbrush, he put on the clothes that were waiting for him on hooks by the door.

It was absolutely _not_ his usual attire, yet the jeans fitted perfectly, the button up flannel shirt was warm, and the thick wool socks made his toes curl happily. With a last glance in the mirror when he was done, he resembled nothing even remotely like any of the personas he'd created over the years, but suddenly he realized how much he was disturbingly like his father.

He grimaced, took a deep breath, and stepped out again into the main room to the smell of bacon, eggs, and hot tea that assaulted his senses delightfully.

"Not my normal choice in vestments, Mr. Reese." He gave John a stern look before sitting down on the same bar stool he'd occupied the night before.

"No, but a three piece suit doesn't work very well for flying." John gave him a smile and a quick kiss as he set a plate of food down. "Eat up."

"We're going flying?!" Harold asked, excited at the thought.

John kissed the top of his head, and then moved back into the kitchen to grab his coffee. "Yes. I know you have more questions, and I really could use some exercise."

Harold rather wolfed his food down after that, and drank his tea like a kid who had just been told he couldn't open the presents on his birthday until breakfast was finished. When he realized John smirking over his coffee cup, he rolled his eyes, slowed down a little, and better enjoyed the meal provided.

"You're not having anything?"

"I already ate." John saw the question on his face. "I was out and about earlier."

"When you say 'ate', I assume you don't mean eggs and bacon?" Harold cringed slightly.

"Do you want me to answer that?" John retorted, putting his cup down.

"No." Trying not to imagine how the local livestock population was suddenly short a few head of cattle, Harold wondered if there was some way to be less squeamish about it. He'd grown up on a farm after all...

Really, his father would be giddy as schoolboy at the reality of Dragons.

"Ready?" John moved around the island and held out his hand.

It was then that Harold realized Reese was wearing nothing but a low riding pair of jogging pants. He stared lecherously for a second or two, but figured it was probably a good thing he hadn't noticed earlier, or his breakfast would've gotten cold.

"When I transform, any clothes I wear are instantly shredded." John chuckled at the suggestive look his Mate was giving him. "Hence, taking off as much as I could at the warehouse. Hopefully Carter salvaged my coat and phone."

"I would hope so! That coat wasn't exactly off-rack, Mr. Reese." Harold took his hand and was led back out of the apartment to find Sam standing in the middle of the barn floor, along with a middle aged, blonde woman.

"Sam will help you prep for a ride." John gave him a reassuring smile as they walked over to the two newcomers. "Harold, this is Sarah. Sam's wife."

"Oh, it's good to meet you!" She leaned over and gave him a gentle hug.

Harold bit back the emotions coursing through him again, as Sarah instantly reminded him of his own mother. She was a little rounder perhaps, but just as kind in the eyes, and with an equally genuine smile.

It seemed his day was destined to be filled with old memories.

"I'm sure John hasn't explained everything fully, but I do hope he gave you a few important pieces of information." Sarah cast the Dragon a pointed look, which was ruined by a knowing wink.

"He mentioned the Mate thing, yes."

"Well _that's_ a start," Sam snorted. "Okay lizard, do your lizard thing."

"Lizard thing?" Harold asked, as Sarah pulled him toward the far edge of the barn floor.

"He's referring to the moment Dragons transition back into their natural form. Being human is the 'disguise' they learned to adopt for hiding in the world," she explained softly.

"Are you a Dragon too?" he asked, still desperately curious about everything.

"No." Her tone changed slightly, a ring of regret in it. "But my family has Dragons. My grandfather is a Dragon, his Mate - my grandmother - was human," she explained quickly. "My mother was born human, so no possibility for me to be Dragon. But it was how I met Sam, and well, it was love at first sight for us."

"You hit me with your car, dear!" Sam glanced over at them, giving his wife a wink.

"Barely grazed you."

"You missed," John pointed out, as he stripped off his jogging pants and moved into the middle of the barn.

Harold stared at that tightly sculpted ass.

"Best part of the whole thing," Sarah muttered, also starting at his ass.

Sam rolled his eyes dramatically.

But all Harold could see was John, bowing his head, hands flexing by his sides. It seemed just like that moment at the warehouse...

Then a blink.

John was gone, and there stood the Dragon.

"How does he do that?" Harold demanded.

"Magic," Sam answered, grinning broadly.

"No, really?"

"Magic," Sam repeated. "Dragons are mythological creatures. Magic is inherant within them. It's one of those 'go with the mystery' moments. Kinda like Miracles, UFOS, and Taxes."

Harold snorted. He really liked John's uncle, and there was a part of him that rather wanted to introduce Sam to Fusco, yet not.

He walked over to John, palm out, smiling brightly as the Dragon's snout settled in his hand. He could feel John's amusement.

"So do I get a saddle?" he asked with a smirk.

"Sort of." Sam snapped his finger at the Dragon and pointed down with a sharp gesture.

John stared at him fixedly, unmoving.

"Seriously?" Sam glared at his nephew in utter exasperation.

"I am _not_ a dog you can make sit on command." The Dragon glared right back.

"Fine." He rolled his eyes. "John, my dear nephew, would you be so kind as to get your lizard ass on the ground, so I can make up a saddle for your Mate to ride you like a pony?"

"Samuel Thomas Reese!" Sarah was horrified at such language.

Harold wasn't sure how exactly, but he could tell John was smirking.

"You are a giant pain in my ass, boy," Sam muttered, as Reese maneuvered to the ground and let him work up the rig.

Harold watched as he placed a large saddle pad at the base of the Dragon's neck, then secured it with a modified girth strap. A thick wool blanket was tossed over the top. Sam motioned for Finch, helping him settle onto the makeshift seating, and once he got his bearings, Harold had to admit it was more comfortable than sitting on the scales.

Sam then proceeded to wrap another leather strap, which had two metal rings attached in the center, around John's neck slightly above Harold's knees. A nylon rope, with fasteners on each end, was clipped to one metal ring, wrapped around the rider's waist and secured to the second ring.

Finch shifted a little, able to move while being well secured without feeling trapped. It rather reminded him of the belts used on carousel horses to keep the kids from falling off.

"It will make sure you're safe. So if you lean a bit too much, you won't drop off lizard breath's back here," Sam explained, as he placed a final leather band further up John's neck. A secondary nylon rope, that matched its counterpart at Harold's waist, was clipped from that down onto the metal rings. He handed the 'reins' to the new Dragon rider. "You can't really force him to go in any one direction, but this will help you hold on, and lean against him if he decides to be a hotshot."

Harold took hold of the rope. It was soft in his hands, and when he pulled back slightly, John looked over his shoulder at him. "If there's a problem, or you feel as if you're slipping, pull back hard, and I'll either maintain my position or land if able."

"Of course, Mr. Reese." Harold held the reins loosely in his lap. "Now what?"

John sat up suddenly, startling his rider slightly.

He shifted, getting used to the feel of leather tied around him. It had been quite a while since he last wore the 'saddle'. He had given Sam rides when the man was younger, and even Sarah had gotten a ride or two. After his parents died, he had retreated back into the Army, and hadn't felt like flying much until he met Jessica. He just never got the chance to take her for a ride.

The Dragon huffed and trotted neatly out the back of the barn, spread his wings with remarkably grace, and gave a last look to Harold before lifting off the ground and soaring up into the sky. The climb was steady and easy, letting them both adjust to the air pressure and the rushing winds. He felt the straps shift and move, as his Mate tightened his hold on them better. Once he hit safe Dragon cruising altitude, he glanced back to see a look of pure, unadulterated pleasure on Harold's face.

And John swore he would take his Mate flying every weekend just to see that look again.

"How are you doing, Harold?"

"Would squeeing be in bad taste, Mr. Reese?" he asked, a huge smile on his face. "Right now, this is totally awesome!"

John chuckled, fully agreeing.

"Where are we going?"

"Where do you _want_ to go?"

"I'm guessing you can't actually land in the middle of Italy," Harold teased.

"Land in the middle of Rome, no." John banked slightly to the left. "In the countryside, I probably could pull that off. But it would be a long flight, with no amenities."

"How long?" Harold asked, trying to figure the math in his head based on the Dragon's windspeed.

"I don't fly as fast as jets can." John snorted slightly. "So probably two days, with a few pit stops."

"So no Italian for lunch." Harold ran a hand across the powerful neck below the reins. "How about Alaska or Yosemite? Something with wide open spaces, where you can't be seen or hunted."

"Got just the spot." Knowing the billionaire was a bit of a daredevil when it came to the sensation of speed, he dipped down and took a small nose dive through clouds, before quickly banking left and back up. The delighted laughter was enough for him to know Harold was enjoying himself immensely.

As they approached their destination, Reese dived deeper, flattening out over the tops of the trees, before lowering his feet and landing in a clearing surrounded by forest.

It was one of his favorite places.

The grass was green, the lake was clear, and a ring of hills added nicely to both privacy and safety.

And there were sheep.

Lots of sheep.

"You're not eating the sheep."

"Harold?" John stared over his shoulder at him, frowning. "I'm hungry."

"Transfer into human form. I've got roast beef sandwiches. Sarah gave me a backpack with food, and other items I am quite sure I don't want to think about her packing." Harold unhooked his 'seatbelt' and slid down to the ground.

"One sheep?"

"No."

The Dragon huffed, but settled down onto the ground, tail swishing over the grass as he allowed Harold time to take the blanket and spread it out. The rest of the saddle gear was a little more awkward to remove but with some fiddling it was soon gone, and Reese gave a shudder like a dog that just stepped dripping from a river. It made his scales ripple and shimmer.

Once he felt better, he sat back down, wrapping his tail around his feet.

The blush Harold was sporting as he dug through the backpack, told him exactly what Sarah had packed.

Finally, he pulled out a bottle of water and drank it down. "So, Mr. Reese." In truth, Harold was still getting used to having a conversation with a Dragon. "After last night, does this mean we're Mated?"

"It's not complete yet," John answered, head resting on the blanket, letting his Mate scratch him behind his ears. "For the last step I need to be in Dragon form."

"Sex won't be involved will it?" he asked, chortling. "Not that I'm unwilling to try new things, but I doubt the lube Sarah packed would be enough."

John snorted, ruffling the edge of the blanket. "No Dragon sex."

"Do Dragons have sex? I mean, in Dragon form?" Harold ran his hand along the broad, sleek head and over the neck that pressed against him.

"Yes, Dragons have sex. There are Dragons who are Mates." John shifted, moving his head around a little until they were facing each other. "Dragons who are Mated to humans, have on occasion 'mated' with another Dragon to make sure the species keeps going. This is more common with same-sex couples."

"So we're not a rarity?"

"No. Draco, one of the oldest, is Mated to a human male," he answered, eyes closing, enjoying the warm sun.

"Draco, from the movie?"

"Yes." John twitched one eye open again, to watch Harold's reactions. "Bowen was his Mate. It's kinda like the movie, but not. I mentioned some Dragons are evil. Well, one was Mated to the King, and Bowen thought it was a bad influence, not realizing the boy he'd help raise was an asshole. After hunting down and killing a few Dragons, he ran into Draco, who put him straight, and explained about Mates. A few years later, the two took out the King _and_ the bad Dragon."

"Where are they now?"

"Scotland," John chuckled. "Draco likes to pretend he's Nessy. The locals love him, and let him have as many sheep as he wants." He gave Harold a particularly pointed look. "Brings in tourists."

"So Dragons have no problem with same-sex couples?"

"That's a human problem," John said honestly. "We would have to be more careful as humans in New York, than with other Dragons. But to answer your question... Draco wanted his line to continue, and as Bowen couldn't pop a few babies out for him, he bred with a female Dragon who had a human female as a Mate. After the hatchlings were born, Draco and Bowen raised two, and the girls raised the other two. A Dragon pair tend to produce a clutch, while a human and Dragon pairing have babies one at a time."

"Were you hatched?" Harold stared at Reese with wide eyes.

But John chuckled deeply. "I was born, like my brother. I was a year old when dad looked into my crib and discovered I was missing. He freaked, thinking someone had taken me, only to find me in front of the fireplace under one of mom's quilts, curled up in a ball as a Dragon. For years they couldn't really take me away from the farm, as I couldn't control transforming until I was about three, and knew not to do it in front of other humans."

"I have to ask." Harold sat up straighter. " _How To Train Your Dragon_?"

"What about it?"

"Is Toothless real? I mean, if _Dragonheart_ was based on a real Dragon, is Toothless real too? Bear does love the movie after all, Mr. Reese. It's for his benefit to know these things."

"Toothless is Hiccup. Hiccup is Toothless. It's why both characters are missing part of tail or foot." John lifted his head up a little. "Astrid is his Mate. She's the one who flies with the rigged saddle. It was their grandkid, or really a few generations of grandkids, who have kept the family secret, and then finally written the books."

"Ah, then just so." Harold used the Dragon's solidity to help steady himself as he stood up. "How do we finish this Mating?"

John nodded, moving out toward the middle of the field, Harold following just behind.

He settled back down, half elevated on his front legs, experiencing a strange sense of anticipation that was hard to quantify. "Come stand in front of me. Touch my chest. Don't be scared. Do you feel my heart?"

"Yes." Harold laid his hand on the smooth scales, sensing perfectly what he was looking for, following his instincts, holding his breath. He could feel the pulse that beat heavily under his palm.

"There's no turning back. This is forever..."

"I know." He looked up, a smile on his face that spoke of utter adoration. "I love you."

"Oh, Harold." John's head dipped down and pushed against him softly. "I've loved you from the moment told me to call you Mr. Finch."

"Mr. Reese..."

John's wings unfurled, wrapping around them both, securing his Mate within his embrace. "You need only open yourself to me." His voice was soft and caring. "In the movie they showed Draco sharing his heart with the king, to save his life. This is partly accurate." He reached up to his chest with his claw, cutting under one of the scales, exposing his very Soul. "It's not the heart we share…"

Harold's breath caught in his throat at the perfect beauty of what he was seeing.

The wings supporting him, kept him standing as it overwhelmed his senses.

If asked to describe that moment, all he could he really convey was the feeling of gentle warmth.

The sensation of being whole, in ways he had never before known himself needing.

Of being adored.

Surrounded by love.

It was coming home.

"I am yours," he whispered.

A flash of light, seared across the meadow, startling the local birds and animals.

And when everything settled, John stood naked in the middle of the field, holding Harold carefully in his arms.

He kissed his Mate's forehead, before lifting him up and carrying him back to the blanket.

Laying him down very carefully, he settled next to him, wrapping himself around the smaller body. He had known that the Mating would take a lot out of Harold, but it didn't stop him from being concerned.

Draco had warned him of the possibilities though, and told him to be patient with the process.

A few hours later, Harold woke, startled and confused.

He sat up, cringing at the sharp pain in his neck.

"Let me." John's hand rubbed tenderly at the right spot, calming down the nerves and muscles. "How are you feeling?"

"You're in human form."

John smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "It was easier to curl up and take a nap with you." He moved until he was sat in front of his Mate. "How are you feeling?" he asked again.

"Good." Harold frowned, rubbing his chest, sensing something there. Unbuttoning his shirt, it took him an astonished moment to register the Dragon-shaped tattoo, that was formed almost like a birthmark, a shadow over his heart. He blinked up at Reese, one eyebrow raised in question.

"The mark is mine. The shape reflects my own. It's a sign to the world that you are Mated to a Dragon, and absolutely not to be fucked with."

"What happens if someone ignores it?" Harold asked, his hand brushing over the mark. It surprised him that it didn't hurt. He could remember a strong heat, pressure on his chest, but not a physical pain per se.

"I rip them apart and leave them to rot."

"So nothing really new then," Harold chuckled, eyerolling.

"And what would _you_ do if someone went after _me_?" John retorted with a smirk.

"Destroy them." His eyes narrowed at the very thought of it.

If Snow hadn't taken out Kara with his bomb vest, Harold would have made it his life's goal to find and destroy her.

"I love you, so much." John cupped his Mate's cheek and leaned forward, taking his lips in a feathery kiss.

Harold reached out for his shoulders, pulling him closer until they ended up laying back on the blanket. "I want to feel you inside me."

"Bless Sarah and her planning," John muttered, as he sat up and grabbed the backpack, pulling out a small tube of lubricant. He tossed it on the blanket, then worked to get his Mate out of his clothing. The shirt got folded to give Harold's neck some support, and the jeans were stuffed under his hips. "Tell me if you hurt."

"I really don't care, Mr. Reese," he murmured, spreading his legs as much as he could. "I want this."

"I won't hurt you." John shifted Harold's bad leg just enough to take pressure off his hip. "And Harold, now that you're mine, we'll be discussing exercise, yoga and therapy for your injuries."

"Now?!" He stared at him in shock.

John chuckled as he spread lube on his fingers, and rubbed it over the puckered hole he was being offered.

Harold's hands gripped the blanket, his back arching slightly.

"Relax," Reese cautioned. "I don't want you in pain."

"Then do something, Mr. Reese!"

It was an order, and John obeyed, slipping a finger into Harold's body, thrusting gently, looking for that one sensitive spot. When his Mate moaned in delight, his eyes fluttering closed, John smirked wickedly. Slicking his fingers with more lube, he pushed two inside the warmth that welcomed him, again finding that bundle of nerves. It won him a whimper of pleasured joy. Moving onto his knees, he leaned down and took Harold's leaking cock into his mouth, even as he added a third finger.

His reward came with an ecstatic shout as his Mate reached orgasm, and John gladly drank everything he was given, licking him clean with luxurious strokes of the tongue, before finally sitting back up.

Grabbing the lube, he slicked his own aching cock and positioned himself at Harold's trembling entrance.

Resting his hands on either side of his Mate's head, he leaned in and kissed him as he slowly pushed forward.

Cringing slightly as he adjusted to the pressure, Harold moaned at the feeling of being taken. It had been too long since he'd last given this to anyone. Reaching up, he deepened the kiss, wanting nothing but to thrust his hips and take John fully inside himself, but a warning twinge from his injuries told him not to favor lust too much over commonsense.

Still he was panting rather harshly as John tortured him instead, inch by inch.

"I got you, Mr. Finch." He chuckled softly at Harold's impatience. Having his Mate spread out under him, all the barriers between them blown apart, was enough to have him coming far too fast, yet he somehow held onto his disintegrating self-control a while longer, gripping Harold's bad hip, steadying it as he slid fully inside, and sheathed himself completely in the place he knew he alone belonged. "So tight," he breathed.

"No one since…" Harold looked at him suddenly, eyes sharp and slightly guarded.

"Nathan." John kissed away the concern. "I figured that one a while ago."

He pulled out then pushed back in, determined to have Harold utterly loose it and scream out his name to the sky.

The care John took not to hurt him, made Harold's heart swell in love. Each thrust, each slide, each gasp, was utterly beyond perfect, and it surprised him that even at his age, his erection had returned and his dick was eager for more. "Harder. John, please..." The brilliant glow in his Dragon's eyes, seeped through the human gaze.

Yes, this was _his_ Dragon.

His Mate.

His everything.

The moment John's hand wrapped around his manhood, sliding along the shaft in sync with each thrust, a second orgasm tore through him with such violent, heaving passion, that he screamed it out for the world to hear.

John rhythm stalled at the sight of it, his Mate's inner muscles tightening fiercely around him.

He pushed in harder - once, twice, three times - and came with his own harsh growl of pleasure, breathing deeply as the sensation washed over him.

Thankfully he kept some small, rational voice in his head that warned him not to collapse on his Mate. So he pulled out gently, and lay next to him, pressing their bodies flush together, pulling Harold's glasses off and setting them in the grass.

Neither caring much about the mess, they were almost instantly asleep.

When Harold woke some time later, he was alone again.

Frowning when he didn't see John nearby, he sighed, figuring there had to be at least one habit he'd need to break his Dragon of.

Struggling upright, he pulled on his clothes, cringing slightly at the soreness and the sticky patches, but he couldn't keep the giddy smile off his face. Though he felt like a youngster again, he still tested his leg before setting off to find John.

In the end, he heard it before he saw it.

A rustle of the bushes.

The sound of a wet, slippery crunch.

Harold glared at his Dragon, who was licking his lips as he turned around. He'd been just about to snag another sheep, but stopped short when he saw his Mate.

"You are absolutely brushing your teeth before kissing me."

"I swallowed your seed then kissed you on the mouth, and _one_ little sheep is offensive to my oral hygiene, Mr. Finch? It's just like eating warm mutton." The Dragon made his way over to his human, lowering his head to nuzzle at Harold's belly softly. "Besides, all that sex with you made me hungry."

His eyebrow ridges rose, giving him a most suggestive expression.

"We do have sandwiches, Mr. Reese!" Harold leaned into the knowing touch despite glaring at him.

"My metabolism is working overtime with all the energy it takes to keep shifting shape." He led them back to the blanket, settling down into the grass. "A sandwich just wasn't going to cut it."

Harold sat on the non-messy section of the blanket, took out the sandwiches and ate them both. He was apparently that famished too. "So, now what happens?"

"Now we go home." John settled his snout on his Mate's lap, demanding pets. "We'll figure it out as we go. Should be a challenge. I'm actually shocked you aren't having a freak out moment."

"Oh, I most certainly am." Harold stroked the warm scales. "There seems to be a part of my brain screaming stupidly at trying to reason how it should be I just Mated with a Dragon, and have a shadow tattoo as proof. The other part of me is saying you're still John Reese, just slightly scalier."

"Well that's one way to look at it." The Dragon snorted softly in amusement. "If you need to talk to other human Mates, I can make arrangements."

"Are there any in New York?"

"A few." He lifted his head slightly and looked at Harold. "There is one you need to be aware of." His Mate stared at him for a few moments, waiting. "Elias has a second-in-command, Anthony, the guy with the scar. _He's_ a Dragon. I smelt him on Elias. That's why I didn't think twice about helping him. Afterwards he came to me, having smelled another Dragon on his Protectee. We made a deal, not to mess with the other."

"You should've _told_ me this!" Harold was rightly furious, not caring how much physically bigger Reese was at that moment.

"I would've had to mention the whole Dragon thing in the first place." Reese itched to snarl, but stayed calm, trying not scare his new Mate. "He's smaller than me, by a lot. If he pushed, I could easily take him out. Harold, I'd be able to take him out in _human_ form."

"So he's Mated with Elias?"

"No, Elias is his Protectee." John laid his head down to show a more submissive position. "He found Elias after the boy's mother was killed, and took him in. He won't abandon him, no matter what. Not for the mob or the police."

"Will he be problem?" Harold was still concerned, but moved to lean against John's neck, finding comfort in the touch.

"No more than they already are." John rolled his eyes, making his Mate smile just a little. "The only good thing about it? As I'm the bigger Dragon in the area, he'll come under my control, unless I go after Elias."

"So we could work this out in our favor." Harold's mind wove smoothly through a few dozen different scenarios. "Elias has a point, and has done well to clean up Brighton Beach, he just …"

"...goes about it, not quite the right way." John finished his thought for him. "After we get back to New York and get settled together, we'll deal with Elias."

"Well in that case, Mr. Reese, we shall have to order you a new suit, and replace the one you lost when you transformed at the warehouse." Harold lay back a little, enjoying being close to his Dragon.

"Rest, Harold. We have a long flight back."

***

They reached the barn as dusk was settling.

Sam cringed at the blanket he was handed, and dumped it in a trash bag to let Sarah deal with later.

He helped unstrap all the gear and put it away, then once his nephew was in human form again, he pulled him into a tight hug.

Sarah slipped her arm around Harold. "He's just happy John's taken care of now," she informed him softly. "I never had children, you see. Found out I was barren about two years into our marriage. Sam never cared. He loved me for me. Besides, he always said we had John to watch over instead. I know he's been worried what would happen to the big lizard after we passed, but now he has _you_."

"Yes, he does." Harold smiled at the sight of the two men, and a blush crept over his face. "Excuse me, there's something I need to take care of."

"Sure. I'm so happy for you both." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "We stocked the fridge full. There should be some steak and extra groceries enough to hold John over."

"Do I need to find sheep in the city for him?" he asked, genuinely wondering where livestock might be procured in sufficient quantity. He might not like the idea of feeding his Dragon live food, but if John needed far more calories than the average human being, then the man certainly wasn't eating anywhere near enough anyway.

"As a human, his body needs slightly more than average nutrition. But make sure he gets good meals with meat. If he's in Dragon form for a while, he'll need much more food. It's an energy thing. Stock him up on proteins, especially if he's going to be transforming more. Okay?" She patted his arm before walking over to John and Sam.

Harold took the moment of distraction to slip away, and headed up to the apartment. In the bathroom he stripped, showered, and changed into jogging pants and a t-shirt, both of which were his exact size.

John had really set the place up for the two of them, and further explorations revealed a modest closet and dresser stacked with articles that were precisely to his taste.

For the first time in a very long time, he had someone who was actually paying attention to his needs, and it made his heart swell to know it.

Making his way back across the room, he re-examined at the computer equipment, then taking a deep breath set out to bring everything online, having already determined from the modestly disguised dish outside that there should be more than adequate connection to the rest of the world.

He had no idea how long he was building and configuring his systems, until he looked up and saw a cup of tea on the corner of the desk, and John sitting on the couch, wearing jogging pants and a sweatshirt, contentedly reading a book.

He downed the tea and went back to work, ignoring his Mate's knowing chuckle.

When he finally had the new setup arranged exactly how he needed, the office chair he was in, got pulled away from the desk and rolled through to the kitchen, where there was food waiting for his attention. He sat in the chair and stared up at his Dragon, mouth open in shock. "Did you just…?"

"I know you, Harold. Once the system is on I won't see you for at least a day, even _with_ me living in the same room as you." John pulled him out of the rolling chair and gestured to the barstool. "Eat. Then you can go play with your computers."

"Yes, mommy." He grinned, but took a seat, his mouth starting to water at the delicious smell of steak, potatoes and steamed vegetables. He dug in, hungrier than he'd first thought.

They had a nice dinner together, talking about a variety of things, including what to do when they got back to New York. Their best option seemed to be continuing the way they were, with Harold staying at John's loft more often than not.

Though Reese did figure he'd sooner or later get chance to track down the Penthouse that Mr. _Partridge_ clearly owned.

When their plates and glasses were empty, he kissed his Mate with an easy familiarity. "Go ahead and play now, Harold. I'll wash up and settle on the couch."

Finch pulled him for a deeper and more lingering moment, then scurried to the computers, dragging his chair behind him.

"Locate Admin," he said simply, once everything was running smoothly.

Video popped up on the screen, with an image of Harold framed in yellow.

Underneath it, a black text box opened. _'Where have you been!?'_

"Is that new?" John asked, walking to the desk, leaning over Harold.

"Somewhat." Harold never wanted to truly admit that the Machine was communicating in more ways than he ever anticipated. He took a deep breath, smiled softly. "Change admin parameters…"

_'Reese, John: Status - Auxiliary Admin'_

"What does that mean?" John asked.

"You are no long an Asset, and certainly not a Contingency. Being Admin will provide you more power, but then I think you may have already achieved that role when you threatened the Machine while you were searching for me." He glanced up at John, then back at the main screen.

"I will always find you." He kissed Harold's temple. "And if Root comes after you again, I _will_ kill her."

"I know, Mr. Reese." Harold had come to that conclusion already. "Find all references…"

_'Dragons.'_

Images. Documents. Historical narratives. Tapestries. Paintings. Sculptures.

Everything that bore even the slightest link to the myths and legends about Dragons, scrolled with breathtaking speed over the entire array of screens that Harold had set up.

John stared in shock. The passage of so much material passing his eyes so fast, always made him feel a little dizzy.

It all ended with security camera footage of him destroying those damn warehouses a few days ago. But what caught his attention just before that, was an old photograph taken in the late 1940's, of a smaller Dragon sitting upright, its tail wrapped around the soldier who stood beside it.

"Harold!" He leaned over and touched the image. "That's my parents."

Finch focused on it, pulling it to the center screen, clearly seeing a strong resemblance between the soldier and Reese. "How?" He wasn't sure if he was asking John or the Machine.

"It was taken after World War II." With fond concern, Reese ran his fingers over the screen as though he could truly touch his loved ones again. "I should know, I took it. Mom had been terrified while we were away. I mean, terrified to a point where she stayed in Dragon form most of the time. When dad came home, she was still in Dragon form. She actually had a hard time coming out of it. But he didn't care. He curled up with her every night, until one morning he woke up next to a redhead instead of a red Dragon."

"She was red?" Harold asked, intrigued.

"Mom came from Wales. Most of the Dragons from that area are red, hence their flag." He smiled down at his Mate. "She's a descendant from Draco. It's why I have the pincher tail. It's his family trademark."

Harold watched as John stared at the photo, lost in memories, then looking back at the screen, he typed a few lines of coded instruction. "I shall have this saved where no one can find it, and then print it for you." He smiled at the soft kiss laid on his temple. "Then I shall have the Machine delete all traces of it, and any connections to either you, or your family."

"How is it even online?"

"Looks like someone found it at a bar…" He typed a few more things, asking for clarification, pulling up information and documentation on that particular image. "Your dad's bar. Someone sold it several years back, to one of those hideous 'Reality Shows' that specialized in debunking myths and legends. They made a show of it, stating in the end that it was faked." Harold pulled up the episode, and the two of them watched with amusement as an 'expert' stated without doubt it was a forged photograph, because all known facts about Dragons meant they were evil creatures and would never be caught posing with a human for a picture. "Obviously an expert at his own self-importance," Harold concluded.

John snorted in agreement. "What else has the Machine pulled up?"

They went through files, photos, and histories, to distinguish the differences between myth and reality.

By the time they were done, Harold was very impressed at how well actual Dragons did manage to hide themselves within society.

"The Machine is calculating all that information and now tracking Dragons worldwide."

"It can't give this information to the government!" John flailed at the computer screens. "Do you know what the government would do if they knew about us? Imagine what Snow would've done with me, if he'd known what I was capable of? You know my record as a human, and you saw what they did. Imagine ten times worse. A hundred times worse!!"

_'Hide'_

_'Protect Admin'_

John read the lines in the black box. "Hide me, to protect Harold?"

_'Protect Dragons. Protects Admin.'_

"It means it's hiding all the information on Dragons, to protect you John. You are Admin as much as I am." Harold sat back in his chair, staring at the screens in awe, fear, admiration, and even pride.

"But you created it." John blinked at him, not quite seeing the context yet.

"You helped to change it John, when you refused to save the Numbers it was giving you, if it didn't help you find me. And now we're Mated. It knows."

"It's a machine Harold. It can't understand Mates."

_'Married'_

Harold waved hand at the screen. "We taught it John. We taught it that we are important to each other. That we will do whatever has to be done to save the other. I was ready to break you out of jail. You hunted Root down. We taught it the concept of Mates, before we even were Mates."

_'Love'_

John stepped back, realizing that Harold was far from joking. It made him stumble a little until he hit the edge of the couch. "It's not on some server, or government drive someplace, is it?"

"No."

_'Bond'_

"It's out there. An Artificial Intelligence"

"Yes."

_'Forever'_

"The servers are merely for processing logic trees before they are deleted. And for communicating with the government, or with us. That alone."

"You were listening to my computer ramblings." Harold wanted to smile, but he could see that John was coming to terms with the very same thoughts he had himself come to terms with over the last year.

Since Root.

"Root wanted it free." John stared at the computers screens and still flailed. "It's already free." He laughed, sounding slightly hysterical, but fully enjoying the irony of the moment. "So you are a God after all."

Harold gave a self-deprecating snort, smiling thinly. "I'm just good with computers."

"If Skynet takes over, I'm totally going to blame you for it."

_'Terminators: independently rationalizing automatons with lethal intent - highly unlikely in next two centuries given current development of robotic design.'_

_'Destruction of human race defeats purpose for creation.'_

John stared at his Mate open-mouthed. "Yep, I blame you entirely."

**~ New York: A Week Later ~**

They settled easily enough back into their routine, and the moment they returned to the library, the Machine had a new Number for them.

While Reese had gone out to scouting, Harold went to meet Fusco at the park and pick up Bear.

He was pleased that someone had at least given some thought to the dog, as he had himself just about forgotten the poor thing during those extraordinary days tucked safe from the world in John's hideaway.

Fusco explained it, stating that he had received a weird text message to go to the old library and pick up Bear. He then made a few choice comments about knowing where the Bat Cave was located. Although he soon began calling it the Dragon Cave instead.

Harold was not amused.

"He's a good dog. The kid loves him." Fusco gave Bear a solid a pat on the head. "Also took out two drug dealers, one gangbanger, and a crazy bitch. Good for the neighborhood."

"I'll ask Mr. Reese to get you one." Finch took Bear's leash and pulled him close. "We'll be in touch."

"How is Mr. Scaly?" he asked.

"Mr. Reese is good, thank you. And I would suggest not mentioning his certain skill while in public." Harold gave the older cop a pointed, disapproving look.

"Hey! Don't get your hackles up. I was just curious. Despite what you think of me, I do actually care."

Harold relaxed slightly. "I know Detective, and thank you."

"We'll have to get a beer sometime. Carter's got questions." He gave Harold a wink and a smirk. "She's been muttering and writing things down. He's in for an interrogation."

Finch couldn't help but smile, thinking about the bomb John would have to drop on Carter's lap. "I'm sure it will be entertaining. You should know that Mr. Reese is working at the present moment, and might be calling for back up."

Fusco nodded, and with one last pat to Bear's head, made his way out of the park.

Harold looked down at the dog, giving him an 'I am most disappointed' expression. "You could've told me."

Bear stared at him and whined.

"I know you know about the _'thing'_."

Bear yipped.

'Harold, are you interrogating the dog?'

Finch glanced around the immediate area to make sure no one was watching. "Did you find our new Number, Mr. Reese?"

'Mr. Baxter at the moment, is alive and well, and living a very ordinary life, with his little Red Dachshund, named Duk-Duk.'

Harold paused, blinking at the mental image that such information provoked. "Mr. Reese, you're supposed to be watching our Number, not playing with the dog."

'I'm watching from across the street. Our Number called to his dog as they went for a walk early. He's well trained.'

"Well, Mr. Baxter is apparently not as well trained as his long friend. He made the mistake of buying a car, in a deal 'too good to be true', courtesy of Craigslist." Harold began making his way back to the library.

'I'm guessing it really was too good to be true.'

"The car was in fact, stolen. But more importantly it was carrying quite a lot of drugs." Harold sighed, wondering how people got themselves into these situations. "I'm afraid Mr. Baxter is going to get visitors rather soon, from a local gang of…"

'Already here, Finch.'

Harold listened for a few moments as John took out the drug dealers.

After a moment, he muted the line, knowing his Mate was more than capable of taking care of the situation.

He glanced back down at the dog, "How about we put on _How To Train Your Dragon_ when we get in. It can be research."

Bear whined in agreement.

They didn't talk about John walking into the library a couple of hours later and finding the two of them binge watching the Dragon's TV Series on Netflix.

They talked even less about John setting down a mug of Sencha Green Tea for Harold, a Doggie Danish for Bear, and a coffee for himself as he got comfortable and watched with them.

**~ Executive Club ~**

 

Harold absolutely refused to go to a dive bar.

Mr. Partridge instead made reservations at the Executive Club, of which he was a member, ensuring they could have a discreet a table in the back in order to guarantee their privacy.

The two were already sitting and enjoying a glass of scotch, that likely cost more that Fusco's wardrobe, as the two detectives made their way across the lounge toward them.

Lionel glanced around, feeling horribly out of place. Everything screamed opulence. The dark panels on the walls, the rich carpet, leather chairs, high end crystal decanters behind the gleaming bar. The serving staff all wore tuxedos. He was out of his league, and knew it too.

"I'm about three seconds from getting kicked to curb," he commented, as they tried to be casual in taking their seats. He motioned with a nod, at a table full of smartly suited men who did little to hide their disgust at the 'filth' that had walked in.

"They can try." Harold sipped his scotch, sending the men a dark glare. "I out rank them."

"Ohhh!" Fusco unbuttoned his jacket and leaned back. "I'm hobnobbing with the big boys now."

"I'm pretty sure half the room is filled with Wall Street guys who destroyed our economy, or Senators who sent us to war." Carter snorted as she got comfortable.

"Likely." John smiled at her.

She gave him a pointed stare. "I'm still pissed with you."

"Why Joss, wherever did this hostility come from?" He motioned to a waiter, who came immediately and took drink orders from the detectives.

Carter waited until the server was gone before glaring a whole lot more at the 'Man in a Suit'. "Do you _know_ how hard it was to explain that fire? Not to mention the death toll?" She gestured at Lionel. "Thank God he's used to coming up with bullshit stories because of you! He explained that since we _startled_ them, someone must have accidentally set fire to the drugs, causing a weird explosion."

"They believed it?" Harold asked, shocked.

Carter rolled her eyes. "Idiot here told them, it was either that or they would have to go with 'Dragon'. The SWAT guys laughed so hard that just about any other bullshit story made more sense."

John smirked.

She glared at him some more.

"Carter…"

"Don't even!" She held her hand out to stop him, one rigid index finger jabbing toward his chest. "I have questions and you _will_ answer them."

John glanced at his Mate, who was looking quite bored, though he could see there was humor in his eyes. "Well then, before you start diving into your notebook..." Carter ignored him as she pulled out a small hand held pad and flipped open the cover. John waited as the server put down the drinks and left again. Then he purposely paused long enough for Fusco to take a drink. "You two should know, that Harold is now Mated to me."

Lionel swallowed the bourbon, choking slightly. "Does _Mated_ mean what I think it means?"

"Seriously?" Carter frowned in surprise, trying not to smirk. "I thought you two were bumping uglies a while back."

Finch sighed. "If your crude street level language is referring to the fact John and I are now lovers, it is a far more recent endeavor than you might imagine."

"Damn it." She pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of her wallet and handed it to Fusco. "I really thought you two were ' _partners_ ' after the whole kidnapping thing."

Fusco chuckled as he put the money in his wallet. "Thanks guys."

"If I knew you were hard up for cash, Fusco, I would've arranged for more HR time." John's expression was warning enough.

"Haha!" He shrugged in mockery, not really caring all that much. He was ordering pizza for Lee tonight. "Hey, I'm not judging! I'm a modern man. Besides, who else would put up with you two?"

"And I'm guessing by using the word _Mate_ , this is because of the 'thing' and not just the sex?" Carter sat back, studying them. A smile formed on her lips as she saw how contented the two men were together, and she took note of how close they were sitting. "Hey, congrats! It's good to see you both happy."

"Thank you mostly kindly, Detective." Harold gave her a nod in acknowledgement.

"And yes, it does refer to the ' _thing_ '." Reese even made the air quotes for emphasis. "Let's get the questions over with."

Carter snorted and looked down at her pad. "How long?"

"I was born in 1803."

"Shit!" Fusco downed the rest of his bourbon, then signaled for another. "Your parents?"

"Mom was one, dad was not," he answered, nodding as the waiter filled everyone's drinks and left.

Carter was still staring at him. "You've seen some history."

"Civil War, both World Wars, avoided Vietnam." He shrugged. "We make good soldiers, cops, protectors."

"How many are there? Is there more in New York?" Lionel asked. He had his own set of questions about the whole Dragon 'thing'.

"A thousand or so, and yes, there are some in the city, besides me of course. In time, I'll let you know who, just in case of emergencies." He glanced back at Carter. "Next question?"

"Do you need to transform often? Since we've never seen it, I wasn't sure if you _weren't_ showing us or _hadn't_ thought to." She sat back in the chair and sipped her drink.

"I haven't for a while. That was the first time in years." He felt Harold's hand on his, giving him reassurance. Carter smiled softly at the sight, and even Fusco grinned. "I'll need to transform more, but will need to find a place that's safe."

"And we could use your help, detectives. As you saw, he's not small, and will need extra nutrition. And I don't mean a hamburger from the local truck." Harold was adamant about that.

"You're talking a side of beef." Lionel was already getting the bigger picture.

"More like a dozen sides of beef," John explained.

"Damn." He took a deep breath, contemplating the problem for a few moments. "I actually know some guys in the meat market. Let me find a few things out."

Reese and Carter kept staring at each other, like brother and sister about to have an almighty fight. "Ask what I know you want to." He could see it in her eyes, as she studied him. Either her instincts as a cop or a soldier - maybe both - were leading her to her own conclusions, or she knew more of her family history than he had actually thought.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Taylor had a school project last semester. Had to build a family tree. I started looking stuff up, and found my great-great-great-grandfather was a Reese. You can only imagine my snorting. Come to find out grandpa was a Union Soldier, who went and married a slave woman." She leaned forward. "The family split in the 1920's, when one sibling married a white man, the other, my grandmother, a black man. Over the years the two never really mingled. One side a little too dark, the other a little too light." She glanced over at John, nodding carefully. "I know Reese can't be your name…"

"Actually, it is."

She paused, sighed, and took a long swallow from her drink. "After the project, something was nagging at me, so I did more research. Taylor got into it. Felt like he was being a detective like his mom. So we went through old photos and documents, and discovered that great-great-grandpa, Thomas Reese, didn't talk about his family. We at that time, assumed it was because they didn't accept him marrying a black woman. But that wasn't really why, was it?"

"No one knew how to handle the scalier side of the family."

"Fucking hell!" Fusco growled, getting more unwanted attention from the men across the room. He coughed and spluttered. "No…! No, you're _not_ related to Mr. Tall, Dark and Scaly here?"

She smirked and pulled out a small photo from the back of her notebook. "It was in grandma's bible. Took me a long time to find it, but I remember her saying it was the only photo of the Reese family. She told me to keep it secret, as most don't believe in magic. I was all of ten when she showed it to me. After she died, I inherited the bible, put it away and never thought more about it. Until I got home after the warehouse thing, and was in the middle of a shower and started cursing your name."

It was a picture from the Civil War.

Two brothers side by side.

One in Union Uniform.

The other a Dragon.

"How did you get that taken?" Harold asked, leaning forward to look at the startling image. It was faded around the edges, but the black and white aspects showcased his Dragon's rich color instead of washing it out.

"Dad was friends with a photographer." John smiled at the photo. "He gave us the glass plate, along with the photo. We destroyed the plate. I never knew what happened to the photo though." He ran a finger over his brother's familiar form. There were days he truly missed him. It had hurt not to be welcomed. It wasn't until Tom had grown old, that he suddenly received a telegram asking him to visit. Everyone at the old folk's home had thought John was a grandson or something. But he stayed right by his brother's side, holding his hand until he died. "Can I keep this?" he whispered.

"It's yours. Not like I can hang it next to Taylor's kindergarten paintings on the fridge." She smiled softly at him, watching the play of emotions across his face. "So that would make you Uncle John?"

Reese smirked at her. "You'll always have family, Joss."

"This explains the bitching between the two of you." Fusco shook his head, laughing lightly. "You two fight like siblings."

"We do not!" the exclaimed together.

And both glared at him with identical disgust.

Harold coughed politely.

"You look like her." John ignored his Mate. "But have Tom's eyes."

"Well if we're going to be family, I expect to see you two at Taylor's recital, and family dinner on Sunday." Carter gave them a cheeky wink. Harold wasn't sure if she was kidding, but from what he _did_ know about the detective, he started making plans for Sunday dinner.

"Is this when we hug?" John asked innocently.

"No!"

"Oh, come on Carter! You know you want to." He stood up and held his arms open, giving her a challenging smirk. "Besides, it should drive the folks here nuts, seeing a black woman dare to hug a white man."

She laughed as she rose to her feet and stepped into his embrace. It was still going to take a while to get her head wrapped around all of it. One day though, she'd sit Taylor down and tell him everything. Maybe after he'd graduated college.

"Oh, I have to get in on this." Fusco jumped out of his seat and wrapped his arm around both of them, chuckling at the groan of exasperation, and the 'get off of me!'. "Come on, Mr. Glasses."

"Really, do I _look_ like someone who does group hugs?" He stared at them, appalled and amused at the same time. But Reese leaned down and gently pulled him up, tucking him into his arms, kissing him softly on the forehead. "Mr. Reese, must you?"

"Might as well give the 80 year old in the corner there, a decent heart attack." He winked over at the old banker, then laughed when he winked back. "Or not! Dirty old man."

Harold quickly gave Carter a hug and Fusco a pat, before sitting back down. "Now that the family drama is over, are there any more questions?"

"Oh, yeah I have tons, but they can wait." Joss put her notebook away. "And I reserve the right to see you in natural form. What little girl doesn't dream of being rescued by a Dragon?"

"Technically you have been." John snickered as he settled in his seat, leaning closer to Harold.

She opened her mouth and then closed it, chuckling lightly.

They sat for another thirty minutes talking about a few active cases, some relevant information they needed, and how the kids were doing in school, and of course there was Bear. As they got up to leave, both cops looking for an early night with the kids, John stood with them, motioning for Harold to stay.

He first took Fusco's arm and slipped a card into his pocket, making sure the detective saw it. "In case the HR things goes south, and I'm not there, call the person on the card. He'll help."

"Help?" Lionel questioned, hoping the suggestion was a good thing.

"A lawyer. The best."

He nodded, then shrugged. He had always thought it would kill him, being the doofus stuck in the middle of everybody else's shit. He just didn't think about getting caught up in the net when HR folded. "Thanks. I mean that. And not just for the card."

Reese wasn't quite sure how to respond, so Lionel just gave him a smile and headed for the door, giving a cheeky wave to the Wall Street Brokers as he left.

Carter rolled her eyes. "I'll make sure he doesn't get in trouble." She leaned up and gave John a kiss on the cheek, then looked down at the card he pressed into her hand. "What is this?"

"Someone you probably know. If you need back up, you can trust her."

She looked at the name, her eyebrows rising as she stared at John again. "We'll discuss," she said firmly, and with that she followed Lionel to the lobby to grab their coats.

"What was that, Mr. Reese?"

"Insurance." He held out his hand, helping Harold from the chair. "We have one more meeting."

"We do?" He followed his Dragon to the very back of the lounge. "You know I don't like surprises, Mr. Reese." He watched intently as John approached the head waiter, whispered a few things in the man's his ear, and suddenly a hidden door was unlatched for them adjacent to the fire exit. "I didn't know that was there, and I've been a patron of this place for over a decade!"

"I actually have some friends in _higher_ places." John pulled him into the corridor, leading him down a long path towards a set of stairs at the end. "And I don't mean the CIA."

"Actually, Mr. Reese, that reminds me I have a question."

He stopped and turned. "What?"

"I was thinking about what you said, that if Snow or Stanton knew about Dragons, their behavior toward you would have surely been more awful. And my thoughts went to the bomb vest, and how scared I was of losing you."

John pulled him closer to his side, leaning down to give him a soft kiss. "I'm fine, Harold. You saved me, remember?"

"Of course I do! And I am thankful for that every day. But as a Dragon…" He pursed his lips. "Why did you not just take Kara out, and be done with her?"

"Too public." He sighed, trying not to remember those days with her. "I went up on the roof, with every intention of transforming, and shredding the vest. I would've had just enough time to get airborne and block the explosion. I would've been injured, and would've needed a while to recover, but someone decided not to listen, and come save me instead."

"Why didn't you just transform then?"

"If you had failed on the last number, I _would_ have." John kissed him again, licking into his mouth, making Harold moan and clutch at his coat. "But you stopped it."

"I will always come for you, Mr. Reese."

"I know, Mr. Finch."

He leaned down and kissed him one more time, before taking his hand firmly. "I know you don't like surprises, but its time you meet others like us." He led him up the flight of stairs. "Sorry for the hike, Finch, but there's a reason this is hidden."

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." Harold's curiosity was outweighing the pain that had begun to form in his hip. Still, as they reached the top, John pulled out an old fashioned key from his inside coat pocket. "Well that's one way to make sure it doesn't get hacked. But couldn't someone easily break the door down?"

"It's reinforced steel." John pushed it open and held it for Harold to walk through.

The room beyond, was larger than it seemed - about the size of a fairly modest ballroom. Big enough for John to transform in, but not tall enough for him to sit upright, or unfurl his wings. The floor was darkly stained wood that looked aged and worn. Harold could've sworn he saw claw marks along the surface. The chandeliers were wide but elegant crystal drops, hugging the ceiling as if to stay out of the way of Dragons roaming below. There were chairs, couches, and assorted tables scattered through the space, a cluster of them in the middle, where a few people were already seated.

An old bar lined the right hand wall.

Everyone who had been chatting, stopped and stared. Their attention fixed rigidly on the newcomers.

"It used to be a Speak Easy," John informed him, closing the door and taking his Mate's hand again. "You're safe here. First off there are no cameras, but I'm pretty sure our ' _mutual friend_ ' has previously wiggled into every cellphone here." Harold snorted softly. "If anything ever comes up on the Dragon side of life, this is safest place for both of us."

Harold understood. He trusted his Mate, and stayed close by his side, although the better part of him wanted to find the nearest corner and an open computer terminal, that might discover all the sooner, everything he could about the location he found himself in, and the people currently occupying it. He didn't like being surprised even at the best of times, or worse go into a situation without proper information.

John squeezed his hand, and gave him a soft, reassuring smile.

His Dragon knew him so well.

"Hey, look what the cat dragged in! Or is that, _bird_?"

Harold focused on the speaker.

The man was dressed in an elegant Tom Ford suit, and not one from the standard Fall line. He had good taste and more than sufficient money, both of which showed in his wardrobe and grooming habits. He also held himself with righteous dignity, his eyes sharp as he took everything in. The two moles on his face did nothing to distract from his classic beauty, and he knew he was indeed a most striking man.

One eyebrow shot up, when Harold recognized him.

"How's the Protectee?" John asked, moving past him, aiming for the chairs and couches.

The man snorted, as he rolled his eyes. "Can we _not_ discuss?"

"Wait." Harold paused, taking that extra moment to study him. "You're a Dragon?"

"Nice way to introduce us, John." The man held his hand out, a warm smile on his lips. "Harvey Specter."

"I know, Mr. Specter. I've seen your work." Harold took his hand. As a matter of fact, Mr. Partridge had Specter on retainer. "Is your firm still open?"

"We'll see." He shrugged, being very noncommittal as he motioned to the seats. "As for my Protectee? He didn't trust me, the asshole. So I had to make a deal with Elias, to ensure his pretty ass doesn't get gang banged in the showers."

"What did Elias want in return?" John asked, concerned.

"Guess who's representing him at his trial?" Harvey walked over to the bar, grabbed a bottle of scotch and poured a generous glass before making his way back to the cluster of chairs and flopping down. "I might have to call 'The Man in a Suit' to come testify."

"Good luck with that, Mr. Specter." Harold glared at him, not caring who he was, how powerful he was, or if he was the biggest, meanest Dragon in the city. No one went after his Mate.

Ever.

"Oooo! Protective Mate is protective." Harvey smiled at him, then winked, recognizing one of his more exclusive clients. "Come sit down, Mr. Partridge. Or is it Finch?"

Harold glanced at John, who kissed him on the forehead. "Harvey is far too smart for his own good." Specter raised his glass in acknowledgement of the thinly veiled insult. "He thinks he knows more than he does."

"Just so, Mr. Reese!" Harold found himself sitting next to a middle age man, who seemed to be hyperventilating.

"Hi!"

Harold assessed him, eyes widening. "And who might you be?"

"I'm _her_ Mate." He nodded over at the woman who was sitting most elegantly in an armchair. Her chestnut hair, partly pulled back from her face, flowed softly past her shoulders. The tank top she was wore, accentuated every curve of her body, and gave him sight of the badge that was hooked at her waist. A leather jacket was tossed on one side of the over-stuffed furniture.

Harold was just ready to ask what Precinct she worked at, when he noticed who was sitting next to her. "What on earth are you doing out of jail?" he demanded of the slightly paunchy, smug little man.

Elias smiled like a snake eyeing a rodent, and gave him a coy little wave.

"I had him signed out and placed in my custody. Don't even ask how I was able to do that, but we all know Carl has connections. And considering this was a meet and greet, I figured it best to go with it and keep him in our sights right along with scarface." The cop glanced over her shoulder to where Anthony was playing darts with a tall black woman. He looked to be losing. "Add in that Harvey needed to have a chat with him."

"Hi, Harold! Welcome to the club." Elias grinned before focusing his attention on Reese. "It's good to see you, John."

The former spy rolled his eyes as he took a seat next to his Mate. "Harold, meet Kate Beckett and her Mate, Richard Castle. Beckett works at the 12th Precinct."

"Did you give Carter my number?" she asked, ignoring the staring contest between the new guy and Elias. "I can imagine what that poor woman goes through having to deal with you. It took me a while to figure out the rumored 'Man in a Suit' was actually you. Though I shouldn't have been that surprised. You always did do things your way."

"How do you two know each other?" Harold asked politely, focusing back on the conversation. From the introductions, he figured the detective was the Dragon, and Mr. Castle her Mate. Which at least gave him someone else to talk to about the care and feeding of Dragons.

"Our moms were cousins," Kate answered.

"She was an annoying little hatchling." John smirked at her, then glanced at Castle. "How's the new book series?"

"Good. I might have an idea for another."

"If the words 'Man in a Suit' come out of your mouth, I will hurt you, despite Beckett." John gave him a killer smile.

Literally.

"And that idea just died." Richard sighed and turned to Harold. "It's finally good to meet another Mate. Well, at least one who lives in New York."

"I've read your books, Mr. Castle." Harold wasn't quite sure how to handle the weirdly enthusiastic man next to him. "They're rather decent for books with little decorum or sophistication, so I can see how they appeal to the mass market."

"Did I just get insulted?" Rick looked over at his Mate. "Honey?"

"Yes dear, he called you a hack writer." Beckett chuckled, reaching over to pat him on the arm. "Harvey, seriously how is Mike?"

"Annoying little shit!" Harvey rolled his eyes dramatically. "I would've gotten him off, but oh, no! The flailing. The terrible angst of it all! He had to not trust me and go make a deal instead. Dumbass little Plebe!"

"Now what?" Castle asked, concerned. "Two years in prison is a long time."

"I've made sure that no one harms him." Elias spoke up quietly, managing to sound somewhat less than his usual charming self. "He's a good kid who doesn't need any more bad memories."

"And while he's there, contemplating how _stupid_ he is," Harvey continued on his rant, "he'll be actually finishing his damn law degree. Though the battle I'll have to fight, getting him past the ethics committee, will make Gettysburg look like a 3 day family feud."

"And for your kind and generous help," John said, giving Elias a most meaningful stare, "Harvey will get you off the murder rap."

And John knew he could do it too.

Harvey never did anything half-assed. He would twist everything around, highlighting the terrible death of Carl's mother, bringing in the students he'd taught, and showing how the poor, dear, darling man only ever wanted to help the neighborhood he grew up in. Before doubtless going on to conclude that it was, in fact, a bunch of vicious, drug dealing, socially maladjusted mobsters who killed innocent people, y'know, for kicks.

"In truth, I would not see any harm come to young Michael. He's a good kid. I like him. He would fit well in my organization."

"Fuck, no!" Harvey glared at him with a fury. "He may be moron, but he's my moron. I mean, _Protectee_. So no way in _hell_ he's working for you."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to see where his loyalties lie at end of two years. And see if justice turns a blind eye or not." Everyone heard the challenge, loud and clear. Though Elias doubted that Michael would in fact turn against Harvey, it had to be said. The kid was loyal, and loyalty went a long way sometimes. He focused back on John, smiling softly. He liked John, believing him a man of real honor - a true Protector of the old-fashioned kind. "You know I won't do anything to interfere with your particular pursuits, Mr. Reese."

"I would destroy you if you did." Harold spoke up, glaring coldly at the man across the small table.

"We're more alike than you care to admit."

"Perhaps." He sat up in his seat, staring down the mob boss. "I'm just better at it."

Castle watched the two men, mentally chalking up notes in his head.

He knew Elias was dangerous, having read the reports Beckett had talked about. He could also understand where the man was coming from, even if he didn't agree with his motives. Harold however, was a new player in the situation. At first he appeared shy and unassuming, and certainly not the sort of Mate he would have naturally expected for someone as powerfully dominant as Reese. He hadn't seen the guy in Dragon form, but Kate had told him he was one of the biggest, at about twice her own size. Yet suddenly, looking at the man sat there next to him, Castle had a feeling it was he who should be feared. And maybe even more so than the NYPD's infamous 'Man in a Suit'. "These meetings just got more interesting," he noted dryly.

Elias smiled brightly. "I liked the two of you from the beginning. I'm glad I never had to remove you from my plans, though you would've been a formidable ally."

"Enough!" Anthony leaned down and kissed the top of Carl's head. "Seriously Elias, I warned you about poking Reese. And the little one with him can do more damage."

Reese glared.

Harold kept his face utterly devoid of expression.

"Don't make me arrest any of you." Beckett sighed at the male ego domination thing that was filling the room. "Seriously, we need more women in this group. Why didn't you bring Donna?"

"I'm still pissed at her." Harvey shrugged.

Donna was a rare human who knew of the Dragons' existence, but wasn't a Protectee. She'd sworn loyalty to Harvey though, and yes he was a terrible bastard sometimes, but she'd known that from the start. So to have her leave him and to work for Litt? That sniveling little shit of all men?

Yeah, Harvey was still pissed.

"Are you going to have problems?" Castle asked, ever curious. "I know the rumors going around about the firm."

"Honestly? The firm is dead." He set his empty glass down before leaning back with a tired sigh. "But it's not the first firm I've built, nor will it be the last."

"How old are you?" Harold wondered if he might have an opportunity for Mr. Specter, seeing that Mr. Partridge didn't choose to hire fools. Harvey knew how to close a deal. His mind was sharp, as was his wit. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to have a lawyer he could more closely rely on. One who wouldn't baulk at taking on the Feds if need be. "I mean, since I'm the new kid here and all."

John snorted, not believing the shy act Harold was choosing to play. He glanced at his Mate, a smirk on his face, watching that devious mind work overtime.

"I was born in 1523, Rome, Italy," Harvey answered easily. "Scarface is the youngest. 1918, born here in New York. Beckett is 1886, Boston. You know how old Reese is. Or at least I would hope you do. And the one perched on the rafters, was 1752, also New York area. You can come down now!"

Harold looked up in surprise to see a young man wearing jeans and a dark colored hoodie, swing himself easily from one of the broad beams overhead. His landing on the floor was as silent and graceful as any gymnast.

"I didn't realize you were back in New York, Connor." John acknowledged him with a chuckle. "Where's Aveline?"

"Probably counting my money in the ladies' room," Anthony called out from the bar. "While I'm here, anyone want anything?"

"I'll help." Castle stood up, and glanced down at Harold. "Scotch?"

"Actually some tea would be nice."

"Sencha Green," John stated, looking at his phone. "There should be a box in the cupboard where the coffee is."

Anthony bent down and dug through the shelf, pulling out a tall green box triumphantly. "How did you do that?"

"I didn't." Reese left it at that, a small smirk on his face. "So what brings you to New York?"

"Louisiana has gone to shit." Connor shrugged, perching himself like a giant bird, on the back of the chair beside him. "People either had a problem with a 'white' man, married to a black woman..."

"…or a 'black' woman married to a Native American." A soft female voice added to the conversation as the tall black woman Harold had seen earlier, stepped into the middle of their seating arrangement and leaned over to give Connor a passionate kiss before making her way across to Beckett and taking the seat next to her. "So we'll be in New York for a while. We can go shopping later."

"Please don't leave." Beckett clutched at her arm, both of them laughing lightly. "What will you be doing while you're here? Can I finally convince you to join the NYPD?" she asked, a contemplative look on her face.

"Tempted, but we have our own agenda."

John snorted. "Still working with Altair?"

"Yes. For a moment I thought you were, with all this running around you've been doing." Connor gave him a knowing look. "But you got your own gig going, huh?"

Harold carefully observed the two Dragons. He was getting better at spotting the difference between a Dragon, a Mate, and a Protectee. It was all in the eyes. There were times he could see a flash of power in John's silver blue, and he could definitely find a red fire in Conner's darker eyes too.

"What tribe are you from Mr. Connor?" he asked, distracting the two Dragons from each other. He had a feeling that Reese might be bigger, but Connor wasn't one to tangle with lightly.

"Oh, he's good, John." Connor nodded and winked at his old friend. "I am Kanien'keha:ka Tribe. My full name is Ratonhnkae:ton, but I mostly go by Connor Kenway."

"I don't recognize that tribe." Harold frowned, his mind working through books and histories.

"They were gone by the late 1700's. I am the only survivor. I watched as the colonists came and destroyed my people, killed my mother."

"I'm sorry."

Connor studied him for a few moments, finding John's Mate didn't fidget or glance away at talk of hard things. There was much respect to be had in such sincerity. "I was taken in by Achilles Davenport, who understood my 'affliction'."

"Dragon."

"Yes. I have fought for my people, and now I fight for a higher cause. Aveline…" He held out his hand, and she stood, letting herself be pulled into his arms. "She also understood the need to fight for her people, and the unique problems that come with having a foot in two worlds."

"I'm guessing you don't mean Dragon and human?"

"That too." He gave Harold a grin. "My father was white, as was Aveline's. So we don't quite fit in any society, accept that of the Dragons."

"And the Brotherhood," Reese pointed out. He saw Harold's widen. "Another story for another day," he muttered, though he was sure his Mate would be researching everything the moment they hit the car, if not on the stairs on their way out.

"He's good for you, John." Aveline smiled brightly at Harold. "Keeps you grounded. Though I do wish you would let us recruit you."

"I'm a spy, an information seeker, not an Assassin." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Well I was, until recently."

Connor leaned over and laid a hand on his shoulders. "Their sins are not your own."

"So what does Reese hoard?" Castle asked, distracting everyone from the serious subject matter. Beckett leaned across and kissed his cheek. Many people saw Rick Castle as a boisterous idiot, but she knew he was deeply intelligent and very good at reading social situations. It came with being a writer, but he would make an awesome detective one day too.

Maybe.

"Hoard?" Harold asked curiously.

"The myth about Dragon's hoarding things, is quite true." Elias giggled, actually giggled. "Anthony collects marbles. It's adorable."

"Beckett's is pens." Castle pulled a pen from his pocket, smiling when his Dragon took it.

"This was mine!" She glared at him. "You stole it."

"I'm a writer, pens are my trade. I saw it and used it." He pulled out a second pen only to lose that one also.

"Feathers." Connor shrugged casually. "I'm not ashamed."

Aveline rolled her eyes. "I could build a few nests."

"Right up your alley, Harold." John grinned at him. "Harvey, go on."

"Can openers," he said, with every inch of dignity he could muster. "What? They're shiny."

"And you, Mr. Reese?" Harold smiled at him, sensing he already knew the answer to that, given how many caches he had found throughout the city over the years.

"Weapons." John leaned over and whispered in his Mate's ear, "But I've got the biggest weapon of all, in you, Harold." The billionaire blushed, but had a wicked smile on his face.

"At least Neal finally left town. Hoarding shiny paintings, especially Renaissance art, is bad for the local museums." Harvey rolled his eyes. "Mozzie went with him, so I'm not sure who the Protectee is in that particular arrangement."

"Neal is a sneaky little thief!" Beckett growled. "The number of times I had to raid his stash and give it back to the museum, only to find out that one was a forgery!"

"He's a Magpie Dragon, of course he's a thief." Connor chuckled. "He likes shiny things as much as we all do."

"I probably don't want to know." Harold leaned closer to Reese.

"I'm sure you've run into Neal Caffrey." John gave him a smile, laughing at his indignant look. "No one is immune to the tiny, shiny stealing Dragon."

"Did he ever steal anything from you?" Harold asked.

"Once."

Harvey chuckled. "It was that dagger - the 'Prince of Persia'. _Very_ shiny, jewel encrusted."

"Yes."

Harold's eyes narrowed at the vicious expression on his Dragon's face. He knew that look. It usually came when some bad guy did something stupid and pissed him off. Considering that as a Dragon, Reese hoarded weapons, stealing one of his stash was likely not a good idea. "I take it he didn't do it again?"

"No."

"As much as I would love to stay, maybe even stretch out, I've got to get back to the Precinct." Beckett stood up, Castle following her for a few steps, helping her put on her jacket. He whispered in her ear, then turned back to Harold, motioning with his head.

"He wants to give you tips on how to water and feed your Dragon." Reese smiled at his Mate.

"Obviously." Harold stood up gently, taking a few moments until he was steady on his feet, then he followed Castle to one of the back corners. He could hear his Mate telling the other Dragons not to ask.

Castle held out a chair for him, then sat down across from his new friend. "I know this is obvious, but I know what it's like to get tossed into this world and have no idea what to do."

"How did you find out?" Harold was starting to like the other man. He wasn't as hyper as he had first thought, and even if he didn't like mass marketed books, Richard Castle was actually not a bad storyteller.

"I got myself assigned to Beckett. Used my friendship with the Mayor to follow her around at her job, for inspiration on the Nikki Heat books." He smirked, chortling softly. "I may have fallen for her the moment I saw her, but it took a few years to get myself in her good graces. Then one day, on a case, the perp pulled a gun on me. It wasn't the first time, but for one I could see he was really going to shoot me. And the two things I regretted, were leaving my daughter, and not being man enough to say something to Kate."

Harold nodded, understanding the sentiment.

"One moment there was a gun in my face, the next scales. She had transformed and wrapped herself around me, tossing the perp across the room. I had imagined, and I do have an active imagination, a lot of things about the two of us. _That_ though, was not one of them."

Harold tried not to laugh. He knew _that_ feeling too.

"Come to find out her guys, Esposito and Ryan, were Protectees, so they knew what to do. I had a learning curve of epic proportions after that." He glanced over at Beckett who was chatting with Aveline. "It took us a bit, but we learned how to handle all of it. I really had to learn things the hard way, until I met Aveline, who helped me with a few questions." He paused significantly. "They need a place to be themselves. So I bought her the apartment across from mine, and stripped it out so she can transform and have space."

"How big is she?"

"18 feet."

"That's about half the size of Reese," Harold muttered, calculating the space he would need.

"From what I've been told, he's one of the biggest. It's why he's pushing 6 foot 4." Castle shook his head. "You'll need a big hall. Also meat. I got a few numbers, I'll send them to you." He pulled out his phone. "Hmm, that's odd. It must've rebooted."

Harold didn't say a word.

"How should I contact you?" He looked up at the little man, watching him for a few moments. "Okay then, how about I give you my number?"

"We can do that." Harold pulled his own phone out, to find messages and information from the Machine. Lots of it. He took Castle's information and put the phone back in his pocket.

"They get cranky if not fed enough. I didn't like the sheep thing at first, but after a bitchy Dragon got well and truly in my face, I had no problem with it. My daughter still has to leave the building." Castle didn't want to talk about that particular nightmare.

"The hoarding?"

"Let them. Encourage them. It's adorable actually. Don't tell her I said that. They're like little kids with shiny toys. I buy Beckett a pen at least once a week. She has them all cataloged." Richard giggled slightly. "No, seriously, don't tell her I said anything."

"I'll have to figure a few things out."

"I probably shouldn't say anything, but…" He shrugged. "Beckett was so pissed when she found out Reese was in New York and living on the streets. They're family. A few cousins removed, but still family. She was upset he didn't come to her. They're fine now, but she knows he's hiding something, and I'm guessing that's you. Sorry, I'm not explaining myself, and considering I use words for a living I'm sucking at it." He paused for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. "Dragons are loyal. I'm sure you know this. They are loyal to each other. John is the largest one in the area, and as he healed from the Jessica thing - which I'm going to guess was also your doing - he's taken back his role as bigger, badder, meaner Dragon for the local district. Every Dragon you see here, will defer to him."

"What does that mean for me?"

"Every Dragon will protect you, as they would protect me and Aveline. But seriously, that woman can do awesome damage all on her own." He sighed, frowning slightly. "Basically, Harold, we all have secrets, and the biggest is the Dragons. Whatever else you're hiding, we won't care. Now, I don't expect us to have Friday double date night, but do realize you can contact either me or Aveline for help, especially when it comes to being Mated to one of these big lizards."

"Thank you."

"No problem." He shrugged. "I promise no books."

"Oh, maybe one day, Mr. Castle. My life is a pretty good fine work of fiction."

"See now I'm intrigued." Richard stood up and held out his hand. Harold took it, and pulled himself out of the chair. "So you need large space, lots of sheep, and shiny things."

"Whatever makes a Dragon happy," Harold snorted, shaking his head.

"And sex."

"Oh, _that_ one I got covered."

***

As they left the Club, Reese held out his arm, letting Harold take it to lean against. "So did you learn a few things?"

"Weapons, Mr. Reese?" He gave his Mate a sideways look.

"They're shiny." John smiled softly, fighting the itch go check on his stashes.

"I'm still not buying you a nuclear bomb." He reached with both hands for the supporting arm that helped him, his hip starting to truly ache by then. "Thank you."

He didn't need to say what for, his Dragon got it.

"If Ethan and his siblings show up in New York, we'll have to be careful." John pulled him closer.

"Why? And who's Ethan?"

"Works for IMF, inside the CIA. He hoards information. A Chameleon Dragon can blend into anything."

"I'm not sure if I'm horrified, intrigued or want to hire him!" Harold admitted, not exactly certain how best to handle that type of knowledge. "Could he hurt our…??"

"I've learned to track him. He and his siblings are some of the youngest of Dragons, born in the 1940's, grew up in the Cold War. Damn good spies," he explained easily. "Their parents were Master Spies themselves. Their mother is English, father Russian."

"Family dinners should be interesting," Harold muttered. "Will I meet them one day?"

John stopped and turned to face him. "If you ever need to get out, and I can't get you out? If any of the aliases you have built start to fail? If the Machine acts up again like it did after that virus? Ethan is the one you call. The bar is a safehouse, but only temporary. I trust Ethan to get you out. Tell him to take you to Draco."

"What about the ones you introduced me to?" He was more than slightly confused. "I thought _they_ would be the ones to turn to?"

"You will. Beckett will work with Carter to keep the law off your back, while Harvey buries them in paperwork. I'm sure Castle can distract anyone from your trail. Connor and Aveline will take out anyone in the shadows, and you won't even see them do it. And I hate to say it, but even Elias would likely make sure no one makes a move one. They would keep you safe long enough for extraction."

"They would do all that for me? All of them?"

"You're my Mate, Harold." John cupped his cheek. "I would do the same for them. If right now, Harvey asked me to get Michael out of jail, I would. But he won't, because he's not his Mate, nor a priority. But if someone came after Aveline or Richard?"

Harold nodded in understanding. "We would be there to help. And with the Machine we have an advantage."

"No one knows about it," he assured him, figure that was the one thing his Mate worried over the most. "Harvey heard me call you Finch a few times, and put two and two together. He's figured you're running aliases like the rest of us do." He kissed the top of his head. "I hoard weapons Harold, and you and the Machine are the shiniest."

"Well now, aren't you the flatter." He pulled Reese down into a soft kiss. "Let's go home."

**~ Six Weeks Later ~**

Fusco backed the refrigerated truck up into the alleyway, blending it into the surroundings as best as he could.

The library was a hidden location for a reason, and there was no need to advertise that the seemingly abandoned building was actually being used.

On paper it didn't even exist.

He got out of the cab and looked around. No one was paying him any attention.

Sometimes he loved and hated New Yorkers.

With a last check, he entered the building through the side door, and found Harold waiting for him.

"Got everything?"

"Your boy should be full after this haul!" Lionel shook his head. "I got about a dozen sides of beef in that truck. They're fresh too, not frozen."

"The catering place delivered for the 'luncheon'." Harold motioned around behind the grand staircase. "The elevator will take you up to the 4th floor, where the old reading room has been converted."

After his memorable meeting with the other Dragons of New York, Harold had discovered quite by accident that John was transforming down in the basement of the library. It was a space barely 12ft high and 40ft long, and was nowhere near enough room for a Dragon of his size. When he also realized that their local rat population had gone missing, he was horrified and disgusted that his Dragon should have to hide himself away like that.

John didn't know that he knew about it.

He had instead disappeared to one of his safehouses, needing time away by himself to get over being so upset and angry that John hadn't confided in him. This was his Mate, and that meant he was supposed to come to him for help.

It took a few hours before he realized John was likely hiding it all to make it easier on him.

In John's mind, Harold would always come first.

He rolled his eyes, wanting to yell at him and curl up next to him at the same time.

He'd snorted at his own stupidity, as he made his way to the kitchen to make tea.

Oh, how much he loved his Dragon!

So he set out to fix the problem.

John needed a large space.

Castle had said he'd bought the apartment across from his and gutted it to make room. But Beckett was half John's size.

The loft was big enough for John to transform, but he would have to sit and not move much. Or just stretch one wing out at a time. Still, a single wrong twitch of the tail, and most of the furniture would be destroyed.

He would likely need a ballroom, or an empty warehouse arrangement.

He startled when his laptop came to life with images of the library.

Staring at it, watching photos of the reading room on the fourth floor keep popping up, gave him hope.

Floor plans and schematics, showing what the space would look like without its tables, chairs, and stacks, made the suggestion ideal.

Harold never realized before how large the room really was, but would surely fit a dragon of Reese's size. He couldn't run around but he would be able to move, stretch, and even unfold both his wings at the same time.

It was perfect.

For the next four weeks, he kept Reese out of the library, and hired a crew to clean out the 4th floor. Mr. Sparrow had bought the property and was going to renovate it into modern apartments, as a new Urban Living Center. The workers involved, had the room cleared, the floor reinforced, and top of the range security shades fitted to the windows in just over three weeks, earning themselves a very generous bonus.

It would be so sad that in a month or so, Mr. Sparrow would go quietly bankrupt, and the project with him; the library once again disappearing into paperwork and obscurity.

The last stage of his plan was getting enough food into the room.

He had noticed John getting thinner and crankier, even if he _had_ curtailed his mood somewhat in his Mate's presence. Carter and Fusco had still gotten a taste of it. And the perps John encountered, definitely saw the worst.

It was Joss who kept him away for a few more hours, while Fusco hauled in a dozen sides of beef, and arranged an array of BBQ. Harold had set aside some of the catered food for himself and the detectives.

It was a last minute run for water that had almost ruined the surprise. Just as everything was set up, Lionel had pulled from his coat pocket a small bottle of water. He'd downed it gratefully, even though it was warm, and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his shirt sleeve. Then he'd looked at the bottle, and up at Harold.

"Shit!" He'd fled like a crazy person, out of the room and down to the truck.

Thirty minutes later he'd returned with several crates of 5 gallon water bottles, and a large inflatable kiddie pool.

Harold wondered if a more elegant water feature in the corner of the converted room, would be so terribly out of place.

They had just finished filling it up, when he heard Reese come in.

"Harold!" John's voice echoed through the library. He sounded upset, worried, and pissed. Never a good combination.

It was bad enough even _before_ he knew about the Dragon.

He sent him a text message stating he was on the 4th floor, and could he please bring up the detective.

A few moments later he heard John's steps on the stairs, followed by the clicking of Bears claws on the wood.

Harold met him at the entrance of what he now called the Dragon Room. "Mr. Reese."

"What's going on, Finch?" he demanded, not liking the feeling that he was being manipulated. "You promised never to lie to me."

"And I never have." Harold held his ground. "I just didn't mention a few things."

"You've kept me out of the library for a month now." He looked past his Mate at the firmly closed doors. "Don't think for a second I can't smell strangers in my territory, or around my Mate." His voice dropped to a low growl, causing Harold to flinch.

It made John take a step back, and he stood pinching the bridge of his nose for a few moments, trying to get control of his emotions.

Harold had noticed him do that a lot in the past few weeks. The control John was showing by not letting out the cranky Dragon, was really quite amazing.

"Well Mr. Reese, I wouldn't have had to sneak around if you'd told me to begin with!" he said imperiously.

"Told you _what_?!" John snapped, patience gone.

"I saw you!" Finch glared at him, not backing off one jot. "Down in the basement like some _common_ reptile. I bought you a multi-million dollar apartment. I have you fitted with designer suits that are tailored to perfection. And I make sure you have access to the most up to date technology and weapons systems. My Dragon will not hide down in a dirty basement eating rats!"

"Wow! You are so a kept man."

"Shut it, Carter!" Reese snarled at her angrily.

She held out her hands and moved down behind him a few steps. "I am way tired of your bitchiness, Reese."

"That would be because he's not eating enough." Harold walked up to his Mate, and pulled on the thick leather belt at his waist. "You honestly thought I wouldn't notice? These suits, as I mentioned earlier, are made to fit, not sag."

"It might elude you, Harold." John looked down at him, but didn't move. "But there are not many places I can transform around here. They look at me weird if I do it in the park."

The billionaire gave him a very slight smile, hearing a tease and an apology in such a comment. "Which is why I fixed you a place."

"Harold?"

He took John's hand and led him to the big double doors. "Go on…"

John gave him one last look, before pushing at the finger plates and shoving the door open.

He stepped through and let out a gasp at the transformation of the old reading room. He had only been up to the fourth floor a few times before, making sure to check for access points, and arrange places that could be used to hide if need be.

It had been crammed with tables, chairs, a huge reference desk, and row upon row of stacks.

But suddenly it was empty, the subtle architecture laid bare in all its early 20th Century magnificence.

It was also big enough for him to fit easily, giving him space to turn around.

He walked out to the middle of the floor, taking it all in.

The windows had lowered shades so no one could see into the building. On the far left hand wall, were tables laid with food.

He turned back to his Mate, tears in his eyes. "Harold…"

"There's a clothes rack, Mr. Reese, so you won't destroy your suits." He pointed to a row of metal hooks and hangars standing just inside the main doors. There were even shoeboxes, and a small dresser.

John didn't hesitate, and started stripping out of his clothes as he moved back across the room. In a few moments he was naked, clothes hung up properly like a civilized human being.

He barely registered Fusco rolling his eyes at Carter, who was checking out his ass and licking her lips.

Finch politely coughed, sending death glares at both detectives even as he called Bear to him, holding his collar in case the dog went into defensive mode when the Dragon appeared.

In a blink of an eye, the room was suddenly filled by black and silver scales.

Harold watched with humor as it stretched forward then backward on its legs, curving it's back like a puppy doing yoga. Then it turned around in a few circles, and rolled its shoulders and shook its head happily, before unfurling its wings and spreading them right out.

"Damn," Fusco muttered, truly getting a good look at the creature. Even after their numerous conversations and all the preparations they'd made, there was a part of him still thought he'd been hallucinating that day. But seeing John in his full Dragon glory, made him realize he wasn't insane. "He's huge."

John's head moved around to study the three human beings.

Harold let go of Bear's collar, ordered him to stay, and stepped out to greet his Dragon.

He held his palm forward, smiling at the snort he felt as the large, familiar snout settled into it. "Does it fit to your expectations, Mr. Reese?"

"More than, Mr. Finch." John wrapped his head and neck around Harold, pulling him closer, rubbing against him slightly. "I missed this."

"I did too," he whispered softly. "There's food for you."

Reese rose smoothly and made his way across the room, chowing down with gusto.

The sound of bones breaking and cracking made everyone cringe.

Harold looked at the two cops. "You'll get used to it."

"Doubt it." Carter grimaced, stepping towards the Dragon. "Can I…?" She made gestures like petting a dog.

"It's up to him," Harold said simply, as he made his way to a small couch set up he had left in the other corner so he could be comfortable while Reese lounged.

"Go ahead."

Well, that was what they thought he said around the food in his mouth.

"Mr. Reese! Kindly eat with some decorum!"

The Dragon swallowed noisily and licked its jaw clean. "Sorry, Harold."

"There's water in the corner." Fusco pointed at the pool.

John downed most of its contents, then went back to eating.

He ignored Carter as she explored his body, only keeping an eye on her when she strayed near sensitive areas.

As he lapped up a container of BBQ ribs he yelped, head jerking upwards, then around. Bear was sitting on his tail, his jaw firmly biting a large section of it. "Bear! No!"

He moved his tail away only to get the dog chasing and pouncing on it again, biting down to stop it from escaping.

"Harold?"

The three humans tried hard not to snicker, and failed miserably.

Reese sighed, shifting his tail slightly only to have the dog wrestle it back to the ground, and promptly lay on it.

Bear looked over at Harold, proud that he had caught the creature.

Reese reached out with a claw, grabbed a beef rib, and flung it at Bear, who barked happily and ran for it.

After that, the Dragon curled his tail around himself securely, before finishing up his dinner.

"I can't believe he ate all of it." Fusco stared at the destruction an hour later. "It was a good thing you hid some, or the rest of us would be starving."

Harold ignored the detective, instead taking the time to scritch behind Reese's ear. He could practically feel the contentment coming off his Dragon. "Don't hide what you need from me."

"I won't." John nuzzled his Mate. "We're going to have to figure something out. I can't fly in the city."

"I'm looking into property in upper New York State. Not as far away as the ranch, so we can get out of the city more often." He stepped closer, feeling secure when the Dragon wrapped his head around him.

"So how long are you going to be in lizard form?" Carter smiled at the adorable couple. She would take a picture but had a feeling her phone might end up destroyed.

"By tomorrow I should be good." Reese blinked over at her. "Thank you for putting up with me."

"Hormonal teenagers, cranky Dragons, same thing." She waved a hand at him. "I'm taking what you didn't devour and heading home. Fusco will return the truck, and well, next time there needs to be some Dragon time, let us know."

"Thank you detectives." Harold turned and gave them a nod.

"We got your back." Fusco gave them a wave as he and Carter headed for the door.

Harold closed it behind them, locking it, and glancing at the installed camera.

He gave a quick nod to let the Machine know to keep watch.

He then disappeared into one of the side rooms.

Reese kept an eye out, but he was content and full, and suddenly sleepy.

His tail moved across the floor, and every once in a while Bear would bark at it, trying to stop it. The dog finally learned not to bite when the pincher snapped open, startling him. He had stayed away for a few moments, but then started playing again, trusting his Alpha.

Reese snorted when Harold came out again in pajamas, carrying an oversized comforter.

He shifted, curling up tighter, making sure his Mate had a comfortable spot against him.

Bear snuggled in with them.

Moved his head around, John tucked Harold closer.

Life was perfect.

**~ Undisclosed NSA Location ~**

"Nothing we have done has yet broken into the central operating system. The virus we set up, failed. The system countered it." The Government Agent looked at his boss, frowning in frustration. "To be honest, sir. The only way we're getting into the Machine, is if you find its creator."

"Who is dead," another Agent stated from the corner. "You killed _him_ and a hundred civilians in the Ferry Bombing."

"No we didn't. We killed the front man. Harold Wren is the one we're looking for." Their boss stood up and moved around his desk, heading for the door. "And he might as well be a ghost."

They small group of analysts and assorted personnel, stalked through the corridors until they came to an oversize warehouse.

There were no servers or computers, as a few had been expecting. Instead it was completely empty, save for one man performing Tai Chi in the very center of the space.

"And this is how we're going to find him."

The Lead Agent looked over at his boss, then at the guy who wore nothing but a pair of gray jogging pants. "How? None of our people have been able to find anything about him. Our last hope was Stanton being able to locate him, but her revenge plans backfired on her."

"Sometimes you need something otherworldly to find yourself a ghost." Their boss stepped away from the group a pace, finally getting the barely clad stranger's full attention. "Meet _Samaritan_."

In the blink of an eye, there stood in the man's place, a sleek, dark red Dragon, at least 30 feet in length from snout to tail tip, but broad and bulky across the shoulders.

It made its way to the small group of pathetic creatures staring up at it in fear, while it in turn stared down upon them with disdain.

"Never send a human to do a Dragon's job," it laughed, the sound a rattling, almost music hiss. "Your target is being guarded. But not for long."

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [Tumblr](http://nico-meridius.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Interested in the bulk of my work in fanfiction: [Sylum Clan](http://www.sylumclan.com/sylumblog/welcome-to-sylum-clan/)
> 
> Please take a moment to check out my: [Published Fiction](http://www.sylumclan.com/sylumblog/nicholasjfinch/)


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